


Beer Flight

by Anon1Adult



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Ficlets, Drabble Collection, Fluff, M/M, Wincest Love Week, Wincest Love Week 2016
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-24 07:24:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 38,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2573084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anon1Adult/pseuds/Anon1Adult
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A place for the SPN mini-stories I write and have no idea what to do with.<br/>WIPs might end up here but fingers crossed I stick with them long enough to give them their own post.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Scared You'll Forget About Me

**Author's Note:**

> Most (all) these works are un-betaed.  
> If you see mistakes, they're mine. Point and laugh, or let me know.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated General
> 
> Muse: thep0rnfairy (she provided lyrics to [ John Mayer - Edge of Desire ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v7zB6raFCc4&feature=youtu.be) and then I had feels…..)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is un-betaed.  
> If you see mistakes, they're mine. Point and laugh, or let me know.

After a long hard week, and a body count like they hadn't had in years, they finally had a moment to breath in the hotel room. They’d both had dinner and showered but the adrenaline still hadn't completely left them.

The laptop battery had died 5 minutes ago and Sam felt too lazy to get up and recharge it.

The TV was on the news but the volume low. It wasn't holding Dean’s interest either as he’d had been staring dazed out the window for the last 10 minutes.

Dean looked completely lost. A small frown seemed etched on his face. He looked like a shadow of his brother, almost as if Sam would blink and Dean would just be gone.

The thought was so strong, so consuming Sam had the sudden urge to yell his name. To say anything to remind him they were still alive, that they were both still here.

Dean unconsciously sighed deeply, his gaze still a thousand yards away.

Sam didn't want to give Dean the chance to shut him out and he knew if he left him along long enough that’s exactly what would happen.

Standing from his own bed Sam slowly moved across the space between the mattresses. Dean’s clothes, covered in blood but none of it their own, piled on the floor.

At the movement Dean’s attention snapped to him, his every muscle tense. They eased only slightly when he registered Sam.

They didn't say a word aloud, but they didn't need to. The pain, the fear had never been clearer in Dean’s green eyes. It hurt to see his brother this way but Sam knew it would be a million times worse the next time Dean smiled because all that hurt would still be inside him.

Without a sound Sam crawled closer and laid his head on Dean’s shoulder and wrapped an arm over his brother’s chest.

Dean moved his arm to tuck Sam’s head against his collarbone and to wrap his own arm around his little brother’s shoulders. Dean dropped a kiss to Sam’s head before laying his cheek against his soft hair.

It was silent reassurance for them both; he wouldn't forget about me.


	2. Beauty Of This Mess Is That it Brings Me Close To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated General
> 
> Music inspiration: [ Broods - Sleep Baby Sleep ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BhQD8e60ja4)
> 
> Set right after the end of Season 2. The night they closed the Hell Gate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is un-betaed.  
> If you see mistakes, they're mine. Point and laugh, or let me know.

Dean had made the Deal and encouraged Sam to eat most of the chicken Bobby had brought. 

Dean figured they'd have at most half a day before Jake's trail went cold but Sam wanted to know what Bobby could make of Ash's notes.

They got in the Impala and Dean had to bite the inside of his lip. Always on the left side to keep Sam from seeing him trying to choke back the sheer relief to see him sitting there. 

Whole. 

Breathing.

Alive. 

 

 

Shit hit the fan when they got to Bobby's. 

 

 

After they closed the Hell Gate, they crashed in the nearest motel right there in Wyoming. 

Sam's winning pitch was they could head back to Bobby's at first light. 

It's was the first down time they had since Dean made the deal. And now that Sam knew it was a matter of time before Sam laid in with a scolding of his own. It seemed he couldn't wait long because he started in as soon as the motel door closed. 

"Your soul Dean?" 

"Come on man! Can we do this later? I'm tired enough as it is." 

Their bags thrown across the beds without needing to dictate who would get which one. 

Dean closest to the door, Sam closest to the window. 

"No we can't do this later. We can do this now because now we have 364 days to break the deal-" 

"No!" Dean shouted, the panic in his chest flaring hot for a moment. "No," he continued in a normal voice as his heart hammered in his chest, "we sleep now and we get a fresh start in the morning. Those demons aren't gonna exorcise themselves and that comes before this other mess." 

"This other mess?! Dean you're going to _die_ and go to _Hell_! How is that not more important?"

Sam stood in the middle of the room wanting to shake Dean until he saw reason. They had to get Dean out of this. They had to. 

"Dean." Sam pleaded.

"Sammy." Dean rounded on him, his voice tight and his defenses up ready for an argument. 

They held each other's eyes for a moment before Dean exhaled and closed his eyes, "Please." 

Sam clenched his teeth and hissed out "Fine" before walking to the bathroom and shutting the door. 

Dean stared at the closed door until he heard the water in the sink running. 

Dean ran a hand over his face with a sigh then started getting ready to sleep. Tucked under the unusually clean smelling sheets it hit him how close he came to losing Sam for good. 

He had watched the life leave Sam's eyes. 

Could still taste the bile in the back of his throat as he screamed himself hoarse begging Sam to wake up. His eyes burned behind closed lids and he worried the sore spot in his mouth as he'd been doing the day before.

Behind the thin bathroom door Dean heard the sink shut off and couldn't catch the soft hiccup of a sob with the knowledge it was _**Sam**_ beyond that door. 

Dean huffed a laugh of joy then the tears were coming harder. They left hot wet trails across his temple before catching on his ear. He rolled onto his side away from the bathroom door Sam was to come out any moment. 

_Sam._

Dean buried his face in the pillow and took couple deep breaths. The shower started next and Dean huffed a shaky breath and didn't remember falling asleep.

 

 

"Dean." 

 

The stillness of it all had him wanting to just shake Sam awake. But he knew. He knew it wouldn't do him any good. The body in front of him, lying so still on that mattress, wasn't Sam. At least not anymore. 

 

"Dean." 

 

Dean felt a big hand rest on his arm and shake him. His face felt hot and the tears rolling down his cheeks didn't offer any relief. He didn't know how long he'd been crying but his whole body felt exhausted with the effort. 

 

"Dean!"

Dean opened his eyes and was hit with a severe case of vertigo. 

Sam was standing over him, hair damp and wearing a thin sleep shirt and boxers. His arm was wrapped around Dean's bicep. 

"Are you with me?" Sam asked softly.

Dean sat up and took a breath that rattled in his chest before nodding. 

"You sure?" 

The first try got caught in his throat and he swallowed hard, "I'm good."

Unconvinced Sam sat heavy on the bed beside Dean's hip as Dean ran the back of his hand over his still leaking eyes. 

"What happened?" Sam asked quietly.

The unwanted image of Sam's deathly-still body rose in his mind and Dean felt his stomach drop out and hot tears race down his cheeks again. He blindly grabbed for Sam's wrist and caught the hand that reached back and held on. 

"You we-" Dean's explanation was cut off with a sob then Sam was moving. Climbing across Dean's legs and moving back the covers far enough to slide in. Dean wanted to protest but Sam still hadn't let go of his hand and he couldn't deny Sam shifting to get comfortable against his side calmed his sleep-muddled mind.

As Dean lay on his back he stared up at the ceiling, tears occasionally escaping his eyes despite all his blinking. 

The bathroom light was still on and the mirror was still fogged from Sam's shower so he figured he hadn't been asleep for very long. 

Sam shifted to lie his head on Dean's shoulder. The familiar smell of a freshly washed Sammy settled around him. It reminded Dean of a younger Sammy, all gangling limbs, the slightest hint of his impending height in his small frame. 

He smelled a bit differently - more manly now, however that was possibly - but under the shampoo he was still Sammy.

Dean inhaled the scent before he could think better of it. His breath still felt shaky in his rib cage. 

Even with Sam's steady heartbeat against his side Dean felt he wouldn't be able to sleep. His mind kept supplying things he didn't want to imagine and he couldn't get it to stop. 

Sam tucked his head under Dean's chin and started humming softly. Dean didn't recognize the melody but it gave him something else to focus on.

As the unfamiliar song lulled Dean to sleep he realized their hands were still clasped together and resting over his stomach.


	3. "If a clock could count down to the exact moment you meet your soul mate, would you want to know?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated General
> 
> Soulmates aren't so much _found_ as they are.... activated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much Wincest writing....  
> Not complaining but I swear to Chuck I write Destiel things too!

Ever since Dean got his countdown at the age of fourteen it had been blank. 

The Days, Hours, Minutes, Seconds flashed two dashes each. 

Blank. 

Dad had told him it was just because his soul mate didn't have theirs' yet. 

Dean could understand that. Grateful for it even because he didn't want an old hag as his true love. 

He wanted someone perfect. 

Someone who would love him and like hanging out with him. Watching Star Wars and listening to Mom's old records. 

But it'd been four years and the countdown was still blank. 

Reasonably, Dean knew giving up already would be pointless. He had his whole life ahead of him. 

He didn't _have_ to meet them before he could legally drink.

A few months after Sam's sophomore year of high school Dad said it was time for Sammy to get the timer.

Dad didn't say why but Sam shared with Dean he suspected it was because if they met Sam's soul mate on a hunt Dad didn't want to let what happen to Mom happen to her. 

Dean scoffed mildly at that, saying the girl for Sammy would end up being the one the ghost would be running from but he couldn't fault Dad for wanting to take that precaution. 

Dad left it up to Sam when to get it, but he told him sooner than later. 

Sam decided he wanted to do it when Dad was out on a hunt. 

They didn't tell Dad that but they waited none the less. So it was Dean who took him in. 

As the nurse called Sam's name Dean felt a surge of anticipation. They would know the exact time when Sammy would find the one he would spend the rest of his life with. 

Sure she might not have it yet, but something told Dean Sammy's clock wouldn't be blank like his. 

The doctor went over the terms and conditions. Highlighting the details of the multiple papers they had to read through and have Sam and Dean, his guardian, sign. 

'It's not a guarantee.'

'They're not responsible for an extraordinarily long wait or blanks.'

'Yada, Yada.'

The doctor held Sam's wrist down and got the implant gun in place. A quick count down and not-quite-at-the-count-of-three he pulled the trigger.

Dean remembers the day he got his implant so he can't mock Sam for the high pitch sound of pain he makes because it’s an _implant_.

Dean didn't hold Sam’s hand through the pain but he wanted to. 

With the implant in place, and reacting to Sam’s body's heat as it's supposed to, it chirps a couple times as it comes online and activates.

Sam is holding his breath as he stares down at it. 

Dean is looking over Sam's shoulder and holding his breath too.

The doctor was still going on. Background noise of a broken record ' _now don't get your hopes up blah blah_ '. 

Then Sam's timer gave a two tone trill of being fully activated. 

They had half a second to see the numbers of Sam's timer flash zero across the four sections then _Dean's_ timer started singing.

All the eyes in the room turned to Dean's wrist and he had half a second of 'What the hell?' because there were three of them in a room with the door closed. He wasn't about to see anyone new.

Then Sam's timer started singing the same tune. 

The high pitch sounds synced up on the second go round. 

Dean saw his shock and confusion mirrored in Sam’s face. 

The doctor had the door open as was yelling for a nurse. 

They ignored the commotion, the screaming, the noise all around them. None of it mattered. 

They found their soulmate, and really, they’d known all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watched the movie 'Timer' and had feels.


	4. Wincest Love Week (Spring 2016) - Day 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating G
> 
> First time back on the road

Dean tried not to show how pleased he was with himself. At least until Sammy was asleep.

When they were kids little Sammy would always fall asleep when they drove through the storms of the Midwest. Something about the steady drumming of the rain and the rhythm of the windshield wipers would have him out like a light in minutes.

Dean counted it as sheer luck he’d found the tape so out of place in the classic rock section all those years ago. “White Noise: Rain on Car”

Guaranteed to put Sammy to sleep faster than Clapton’s “Wonderful Tonight”.

Dean rarely used it, he didn’t want Sam to get wise to his little trick, but this time there was little room for subtlety. Sam was going on day three with less than two hours of sleep a night. He hadn’t said as much, but Dean knew it was because of the nightmares about Jess.

Nightmares that would scare him awake half a second after the first whimper of distress.

Nightmares that struck so fast Dean didn’t have time to comb his fingers through Sam’s hair and sooth him back to a peaceful sleep.

But this tape was Dean’s trump card. The Ace up his sleeve.

Dean had popped the Rain tape in while Sam was distracted, his nose buried in the preliminary research for their next hunt. They were three states away Dean rationalized, they had time.

Before the first crash of thunder five minutes into the tape -Dean had counted- Sammy’s eyes were drooping. Their last refuel Dean had offered to get them coffee if Sam would pump. Sam had unknowingly been sipping at a decaf, so loaded with sugar he hadn’t been able to tell, for the past forty miles and was currently fighting a losing battle.

Dean casually rested his arm along the back of the bench seat and raked his fingers through Sammy’s hair, gently scratching at his scalp.

“Cheated.” Sammy accused as he leaned into Dean’s touch, the printed research papers long forgotten in his lap.

Dean smiled to himself as Sam’s soft snores were occasionally drowned out by the recorded thunder.


	5. Wincest Love Week (Spring 2016) - Day 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated Mature/Explicit
> 
> Hurt/Comfort

“One foot on the brake and one on the gas-hey!” Dean sang off-key from the back seat.

What pissed Sam off the most as he sped through the night was Jackalopes weren’t even real. Or they weren’t real until they opened the basement-turned-lab of some nut job Alchemist who was making the damn things.

“Well, there’s too much traffic, Sammy can’t pass. No.” Dean did his best-squirming air guitar in the lyric pause, “So he tries his best illegal move.”

Sam glanced in the rearview with a pleading look, “Dean, your shoulder is still messed up, you need to stop moving around.”

In typical big brother fashion, Dean ignored him in favor of pointing his finger at Sam and singing the next line, “A big black and white comes and crushes his groove, a-gain!”

Having no nature-given animal instincts the Jackalopes were vicious little meat eaters that had zero qualms with using their antlers to tear flesh into nibble-able size ribbons with startling speed. Dean had been covered in scratches that ranged from ‘paper-cut’ to ‘hospital-visit’ and had a dislocated shoulder saving the Alchemist from his own creations.

The hospital had put Dean on his kryptonite, a morphine drip.

Sam almost forgot how happy Dean was when he was drugged to the gills. It’s been a long time since they had access to something that heavy.

“Go on and write him up for 125. Post his face, wanted dead or alive.” Dean continued. Sam groaned and Dean scrambled to sit up and put a heavy hand on Sam’s shoulder singing, “Take his license, and all that jive. Sammy can’t drive 55!”

Dean was so off-key it forced a laugh out of Sam.

After the morphine had kicked in Dean had gone all charismatic on the nurses, male and female alike. When they asked how he’d got the injuries Dean launched into the retelling how the Jackalopes had come at him “like a wave”. Before Sam could intervene with a more plausible story the nurse had laughed and patted Dean on the arm, taking the story as Dean’s drugged imagination.

The 20 minutes to the next town had been filled with air guitar and Dean’s belting out every song that came on the radio.

Between the chorus and the verse Dean got lost in his own mind, his hand still warm on Sam’s shoulder. “You find us a motel yet?” Dean asked moving his hand to rest against Sam’s neck.

“Next exit.” Sam replied immediately.

“S’too long.” Dean protested then sat up to climb over the bench seat. He put weight on his shoulder and let out a yelp and dropped back into the back seat.

“Dean! You’re going to make it worse, stop moving around.”

“I can’t suck your dick from the backseat.” He protested with a pout that Sam was pretty sure he didn’t actually mean to do.

They were alone but Sam still felt his face heat. “You’re incorrigible.”

Dean leaned forward and put his chin on Sam’s shoulder, “But you like it when I suck your dick because I get you all open and slick so I can slide right in.”

Sam’s dick gave a jerk of interest in the picture Dean painted.

“No. Not when you’re hurt.” Sam argued.

“When has that ever stopped you?” Dean protested.

Before Sam could counter the song caught Dean’s attention again, “Sammy can’t drive 55! Sammy can’t drive 55!”

Sam sighed and prayed for the next motel exit.

\- - -

Dean was mostly asleep on Sam’s shoulder when they pulled in. Sam got the room and Dean situated inside before he went for their bags.

When he came back in Dean had taken off his jacket and thrown his shirt across the room. He was wrestling with his pants that were tangled around his still tied boots.

“You’re too fast.” Dean said as he tugged his pant leg further over his boot.

Sam put a hand on Dean’s arm to stop him.

Dean flopped back on the bed as gracefully as he could with an injured shoulder. “Get me naked so I can fuck you.” He demanded.

Sam sighed, “You’re in no condition-“

“Less talking, more riding.” Dean cut him off with an arm wave.

Sam sighed affectionately and unlaced Dean’s boots, setting them on the floor before pulling Dean’s pants off.

Sam stripped down to his own boxers as Dean palmed himself through his briefs. Sam’s argument for whiskey dick died on his tongue. “You can’t get off when you’re on painkillers.” Sam warned him, aiming for plan B.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t.” Dean smirked freeing himself from his boxers.

Sam swallowed thickly and settled himself along Dean’s side, bare skin pressing chest to hip.

Dean grabbed Sam’s hair and guided him into a wet kiss. Muscle memory was nothing to scoff at because even half out of his mind it took Dean a couple tries to get Sam’s focus back enough to fetch the lube from their bags.

One fumbling attempt and a glob of lube on the back of Sam’s thigh later, morphine-stoned-Dean was banned from helping Sam prep.

It didn’t stop him from mouthing and sucking in messy turns at Sam’s neck, jaw, and collar bone as Sam knelt over Dean’s body with slick fingers as he worked himself open.

“Been thinking about you bouncing on my dick all day.” Dean told him in a warm whisper against the sensitive skin behind Sam’s ear.

“Good because I’m ready.” Sam panted.

A doubtful frown pulled at Dean’s brow but Sam banished it with a slick hand wrapped around Dean’s dick. With a long practiced move, Sam lined them up and steadily sank down, panting through the pleasure of Dean’s cock stretching him open.

“Fuck.” Dean moaned. “Ride ‘em cowboy.” He commanded slapping at Sam’s thigh as his hands came to rest on Sam’s hips.

Ignoring Dean’s comment -that he would have probably said even if he wasn’t high- Sam rolled his hips.

Sam quickly found a position he could avoid bumping the stitches along Dean’s side and still get momentum.

“Want to keep you like this always.” Dean slurred watching him move with a hungry, half-lidded gaze.

“Warming your dick?” Sam asked grinding down to rub against Dean’s stomach.

Dean shook his head and brought his good arm down to wrap around Sam’s cock. “To myself.” He corrected.

Dean gave Sam’s dick a couple strokes before conceding, “But warming my dick is good too.”

Sam gave a laugh and refocused on the feeling of Dean’s calloused hand.

He braced himself over Dean to lean in for another wet kiss.

Dean’s fingers tangled in Sam’s hair and held him close as he mercilessly thumbed at Sam’s leaking slit between skilled twists of his wrist.

Sam bit at Dean’s jaw as his orgasm shook through him. Panting against Dean’s neck, Sam was careful to not press against any of Dean’s stitches as he rested on his elbows, pressed fully against each other.

Dean was still hard inside him, but his nervous energy to get off was absent. The morphine keeping him relaxed and mellow.

Dean woofed against Sam’s ear when he tucked their cheeks together.

“You ok?” Sam breathed against his skin.

Dean gave a low hum followed by a deadpan, “Sammy can’t drive 55.”

Sam nipped at his jaw before getting up, Dean’s laughter following him into the bathroom.


	6. Wincest Love Week (Spring 2016) - Day 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated Mature/Explicit
> 
> A/B/O

Dean transitioned from sleep to aware between one blink and the next.

He wasn’t sure what woke him. The room was quiet. The only smells in the room where his and Sam’s.

There was a spice to the air that he didn’t remember scenting yesterday.

The shower from the bathroom kicked on and Dean realized that smell was an omega in heat. Sam. Sam was in heat. And Sam was his mate.

His first thought was, “Fuck”. Followed by, “It smells fucking amazing.”

Attempting for some sort of control Dean grabbed his shirt and pulled it up over his nose only to find Sam’s scent had saturated him in his sleep. With a groan Dean kicked the sheets off his overly warm body.

Sam had left for Stanford before he transitioned so it had been a surprise to find Sam’s familiar scent teased with an omega when he tracked him down. Dean had first thought Sam was simply well laid, until he tackled him on the floor of his apartment and found that scent was Sam’s.

Dean thought back, trying to determine if there had been any indications he’d found his mate before this moment.

Nothing jumped out at him, but as he lie there surrounded by Sam’s spicy scent little things started clicking in his mind.

Dean had felt more protective than usual after he’d become an alpha. But what alpha big brother wouldn’t feel protective over their little brother?

And sure, all omegas smelled good during their heats, but the scent of mate in heat was unmistakable. And Sam smelled perfect.

Dean had always thought Sam smelled good, but that was just because he knew how ripe the kid could get if he didn’t shower regularly.

Seeing and smelling him again after two years had filled Dean with such happiness he assumed it was because he missed his brother. It didn’t occur to him there might be a separation between ‘having his brother back at his side’ and ‘having his mate back at his side’.

Even after Jess, Dean didn’t have a reason to recognize mate in Sam.

Sam had been wandering around half the time smelling like an omega under duress, and no alpha worth his dick could put the moves on him.

Finding out Sam was his mate also explained why it had hurt so badly when Sam announced he was leaving for Stanford.

Dean had spent 7 days after he left in a drunken stupor trying to convince himself normal big brothers all got this broke up when they’re little brothers left for school.

Dean rubbed a hand over his eyes, god that had sucked.

Even Dean’s unusual transition to alpha kinda made sense too.

Typical alpha transitions were kicked off with an intense 3 day rut before ‘alpha’ dominated their scent.

Dean’s transition had happened overnight and was overall pretty unremarkable. He went to sleep static and woke up an alpha. If Dean’s instincts had recognized Sam as his mate back then it would have made sense he hadn’t gone into rut; going into rut with an immature omega would have only hurt Sam, who wouldn’t have been able to take his knot. It would have been disastrous for everyone.

The water shut off in the bathroom and Dean sat up. He was standing before his brain caught up with his body. He didn’t want to jump Sam the second he walked out the door.

He hated it, but they were going to have to talk about this.

Dean forced himself to sit back on his bed and lounge against the headboard, his neck and belly exposed to appear as non-threatening as he could.

The bathroom door opened and Sam walked out in a towel.

Their eyes met across the room and Dean felt his boxers grow tight. Sam’s hair was dripping onto his shoulders and his hazel eyes were dark in lust.

“Dean?” Sam said cautiously, holding his towel in a white knuckle grip. “Do you smell it?”

Dean almost whimpered at the acknowledgment. But if Sammy needed him to leave and guard the door from a second room he would do it. Dean took a calming breath and forced himself to relax further against the headboard.

“Yeah Sammy.” He said going for indifferent and missing by a mile.

“Oh thank God.” Sam said desperately, closing the distance between them in three long strides.

Sam climbed into Dean’s lap without hesitation, “Been driving me crazy Dean.” Sam growled and pressed their lips together in a kiss that started as more teeth than tongue and lips.

Dean pet a hand down Sam’s shower warm back, slick from the water dripping from his hair. Sam rocked against him, the stubborn towel clinging to his hips adding a second barrier between them.

Dean rolled them over, pinning Sam’s taller frame under him as he mouthed at Sam’s neck until Sam gave an impatient huff, ”Come on Dean.”

“Let me take my time.” Dean whispered against his skin before mapping kisses down Sam’s chest. Lavishing each nipple with nips that had Sam running his fingers through Dean’s hair as if he couldn’t decide if he wanted to push him away or pull him closer.

Dean settled between Sam’s legs, palming the muscle on the back of Sam’s thigh as he worked up under the towel.

Taking off that thin terrycloth was like opening a present.

“Jesus Sammy, look at you.” Dean praised running a hand up the inside of Sam’s slick thighs. “Smell so fucking awesome.” He muttered leaning down and licking a warm strip across Sam’s balls.

Sam moaned and arched up trying to follow Dean’s tongue.  
Nosing Sam’s balls out of his way Dean thumbed Sam’s cheeks apart to lick at the source of that amazing smell.

“Dean!” Sam yelped digging his heels into the bed.

Dean shoved Sam’s legs over his shoulders and pulled Sam’s ass closer as he worked his tongue into that tight heat. Sam fisted the sheets under him, letting out a low keen as Dean worked a thumb alongside his tongue.

“Now, need you now.” Sam panted.

Ignoring his pleas, Dean worked in a second thumb, the slick and saliva easing the way. He pulled back with a wet pop to add a third finger. “Almost there baby.” He promised twisting his fingers, searching.

Flicking across Sam’s prostate earned a deep groan and that tight heat clamping down around his fingers. “Right there, huh baby?” Dean cooed working a final finger in to tease at the bundle of nerves.

An unchecked moan left Sam as Dean pumped his fingers in and out.

“You’re practically dripping here Sammy.” Dean whispered against the inside of Sam’s knee, “So ready for my knot. Just like a good little omega in heat.”

Sam couldn’t hide the way the nickname affected him, his dick giving a hard lurch as his hole fluttered around Dean’s fingers.  
“Fuck me already.” He demanded.

“Not yet.” Dean muttered hot against the base of Sam’s now weeping dick before sealing his mouth around the crown and sucking.

Sam gave a yell and went off like a shot, his fingers digging into Dean’s bicep as Dean drank down his release.

With Sam’s heart racing and his breaths coming out in sharp pants Dean tore out of his briefs to rub his hard dick in the cleft of Sam’s ass, gathering more slick.

Watching Sam’s blissed out face Dean lined himself up and eased in. “Gonna knot this tight little hole.” He promised, watching his dick disappear inside the molten heat that was Sam’s body.

“Yes, Dean please yes.” Sam mewed throwing his head back.

Dean pushed in until Sam’s ass was bumping against his knot. “Hold on to me.” Dean commanded, easing Sam’s legs from his shoulders down to the crook of his elbows, his hands resting on Sam’s hips.

Sam scrambled to hook an arm around Dean’s neck on the first thrust. They both groaned before working to find a steady rhythm.

The sound of flesh meeting echoed in the small room along with Sam’s cadence of gasps and moans between kisses.

“I-I’m gonna-“ Dean cut himself off moving a hand to Sam’s shoulder to open him up further and give himself leverage to rock Sam down in time with his thrusts.

When his knot finally pushed in Dean clenched his teeth to try and quiet his howling release.

The sudden stretch of his hole and the abuse to his prostate had Sam crying out as his second orgasm shot over his chest and stomach.

Dean maneuvered Sam’s legs to a more comfortable position wrapped around Dean’s waist and stayed leaned over him for a long moment as he panted and tried to get his heart rate back under control.

“It’s weird it took us this long to figure out, right?” Sam asked in a long exhale as he nuzzled at Dean’s arm over his shoulder.

“Says you.” Dean argued with no venom, “I figured it out less than 30 minutes ago.”

Sam snorted, “I was halfway through fingering myself in the shower when I realized I was thinking about you and didn’t feel guilty.”

The image was too hot for Dean to resist rocking his hips, their connection sending ripples of pleasure through them both.

“You’ll have to give me a demonstration of that sometime.”

Sam hummed and gave Dean a brief squeeze with his thighs. “That’ll depend how well the next round goes.”


	7. Wincest Love Week (Spring 2016) - Day 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated Teen
> 
> Truth Curse

Sam groaned and sat up.

Dean was sitting at the motel table clicking at Sam’s laptop.

Sam couldn’t remember how he got back to the motel but the sunlight was long across the wall indicating the sun had been up for a few hours. Dean gave him a little wave of acknowledgment. Sam watched him move to quickly close what was probably a pop-up add.

“If you’d stop clicking on the “local singles in your area” I wouldn’t have a problem letting you jack off to porn on my laptop.” Sam told him. It felt a little more crude than he’d intended but Sam chalked it up to he was still half asleep.

Dean snorted at him then sat up and started powering down the laptop.

“How long was I out?” Sam asked as he stretched.

Dean gave a shrug, “Hard to say. After I showered and shaved I had a pretty long nap.” Sam frowned at him and Dean caved, “You’ve been out for four hours. I called Bobby and he said it would wear off in a couple hours. The longest he’d ever seen it go was two days.”

“Two days for what to wear off?”

Dean watched him for a beat. “You don’t remember.”

Sam huffed, “Obviously.”

Dean walked over to sit on the opposite bed to face Sam, their knees almost touching in the space between the beds.

“Why do you keep your hair so long?” Was not what Sam expected him to say.

Sam frowned at the question. “Because Dad shaved my head that one time and Jennifer broke up with me over it.”

Dean smirked as Sam’s eyes went wide and his mouth opened in shock. “What just happened?”

Dean grinned at him and leaned forward in excitement, “You got whammied by a truth curse. Bobby says it’ll start to pick up right before it wears off but you can’t tell a lie for at least 24 hours so we’re benched until it passes.”

Sam shook his head in muted horror.

Dean patted his knee, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll try not to embarrass you too badly. Come on, I’m starving.”

Sam pressed fingers to his temples, “I’m so screwed.”

\- - -

It didn’t take Sam long to learn if he tried to keep his thoughts in he’d start to feel like he was drowning.

Sitting at the booth eating a stack of waffles -a craving Dean got him to admit to having for the past few days- anxiety started to pool in his brain the second time he made eye contact with the guy at the bar.

Sam’s fork clattered to his plate as his heart rate picked up sending him into a cold sweat.

“What’s wrong? Dean asked concerned, reaching halfway across the table as if to touch Sam’s arm.

Sam bit down on his lip until he tasted blood, he was going to throw up.

But when he opened his mouth instead of waffle pieces he started talking, “I keep thinking about that guy at the end of the bar.”

Tension drained from him as if a plug was pulled as he kept word vomiting, “I keep thinking about taking him back to the motel room so he can fuck me through the mattress. He looks big enough to hold me down. I mean, I could take him in a fight but he’s muscular enough to make it a challenge.” Sam finished and buried his face in his hands. “This is awful.” He moaned.

Dean watched him compose himself with his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Didn’t know you swung that way.” Dean finally said when Sam picked up his fork again to pick at his food.

“Lot of things you don’t know about me.” Sam answered without hesitation but flinched hard at the invitation.

Instead of being a pest, Dean didn’t challenge that statement.

As much as Dean wanted to annoy Sam with this temporary curse, making him elaborate that statement would be too easy. And a bit too public based on the interested look the old woman over Sam’s shoulder was making at them.

Dean kept him talking after that but stuck to asking Sam safe questions.

Jennifer apparently was a little girl Sam held hands with at lunch once in fourth grade.

\- - -

“You were obsessed with that Power Rangers show, who did you have a crush on?” Dean asked folding his jacket over the back of the nearest chair.

“Rocky. The second Red Power Ranger.” Sam answered, followed by a frustrated groan as he sat down on his bed, “Damnit Dean. Stop.”

Dean was laughing now, “What? It’s awesome. I can ask you anything and you’ll have to answer me honestly.”

“I don’t want to answer any more of your questions.”

Dean grinned and leaned a hip against the counter. “Yeah, well you don’t have a say in it.”

They stared at each other from across the room for a long moment. Sam defiant and Dean thoughtful.

“Mr. Popcorn.” Dean finally said, intentionally not phrasing it as a question.

Sam blinked at him in confusion before his memory caught up with him, “That stuffed dog you gave me?”

“He was mine once.” Dean argued.

“You hold a grudge like a dog with a bone.” Sam informed him.

“What happened to Mr. Popcorn?” Dean demanded.

Sam clenched his jaw, trying to fight the curse. Dean started counting back from 10, he got to 5 before Sam spat out, “I gave him to a little boy before we left Charlotte.”

Dean pushed off the counter in shock, “You gave him away?!”

Sam took a deep breath and rushed through his explanation, “His name was David and he was an only child. Thinking back I’m pretty sure his parents neglected him. When I told him how my awesome big brother always checked the closet for monsters he started crying because he didn’t have anyone to check his closet for monsters.” Sam took a calming breath before continuing, “I brought him Mr. Popcorn after that because you told me Mr. Popcorn fought the evil clowns and kept them from getting to me. I figured if Mr. Popcorn could fight off evil clowns he could fight off whatever monsters were in David’s closet and the ones under his bed.”

Dean came to sit on the opposite bed, and they sat in silence for a long few minutes.

“You always were a sweet kid.” Dean told him.

“So were you.” Sam countered.

Dean ignored his comment in favor of taking off his boots. He leaned back against the headboard and crossed his legs at the ankle. “So dudes, huh?”

Sam rubbed at his eyes, “Yeah.” He sighed, resigned to Dean wanting to have this conversation now.

“You a pitcher or a catcher?”

“I prefer to catch but I don’t get propositioned very often because everyone assumes a big guy like me would rather give it then get it.” Sam was increasingly horrified at the casual way he divulged the information.

“Makes sense.” Dean conceded with a brief hitch of eyebrows.

“How does that- What would you know about it?” Sam demanded.

Dean hummed like that was all the answer Sam needed. “No, if I’m spilling my guts you can at least offer something in return.”

“I’m not the one with the curse.” Dean replied, before changing the subject abruptly, “Hey, remember that time we were in Georgia and I brought that girl back to the house Dad rented for the month and we broke the shower head?”

Sam swallowed thickly and nodded. He remembered it perfectly. It was the first of many times Sam saw a girl go down on Dean.

“How did you sleep through that?”

And this was the beginning of the end Sam thought with a grimace. “I was never asleep when you brought girls back.”

Dean frowned, “But you-“

“Was always pretending to be asleep. I was awake every time.” Sam answered, wanting to get this over with.

“Why?”

Sam knew the moment Dean told him he was cursed to tell the truth Dean would get this out of him. “Because it was the only way I could think to be a part of it.”

“Part of- You-you horn dog!” Sam rolled his eyes as Dean came to the wrong conclusion. “You couldn’t get laid on your own so you became a little voyeur.”

“No. It was the closest I could get to being with you.”

“But you grew out of it.“ Dean replied immediately, as if rehearsed.

Sam frowned and shook his head, replying simply, “No, I didn't.”

The confused frown didn’t last long on Dean’s brow, replaced by understanding. “Oh.”

Sam stood and started pacing, “Oh? Oh. That’s all you’ve got?” Sam exclaimed throwing his arms out, “I tell you I watched you get off with countless girls because I wanted you, still want you, and all you have to say is ‘Oh’.”

“Give me a fucking minute Sam.”

“Give you a minute for what Dean? Give you a minute to go for the holy water? Give you a minute to get up and kick my ass? Give you a minute to throw all your stuff in the Impala and tear out of here? Am I getting close?!” He yelled dropping his arms at his side.

Dean was watching him, waiting until his fear-fueled rant died. “How long?”

Sam bit his lip, a fruitless attempt against this curse when so much had already been laid bare. “Since I was 16.”

Dean slowly got off his bed and silently padded towards Sam in his sock covered feet.

Sam closed his eyes anticipating the right hook to his face.

It wasn’t hostile, but just as quick, a calloused hand brushed past his cheek to tangle in the hair at the back of his neck. Sam gasped in surprise when Dean tugged him down into a firm kiss.

Dean broke the kiss to whisper against Sam’s lips, “I’ve felt this way a year before you left us for school.”

Relief rushed through him and Sam wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist and urgently pressed their lips back together.

They didn’t make it to the bed, instead shoving each other to the floor grinding together as Dean leaned over Sam’s taller frame.

Dean got the bright idea to get Sam’s belt open and he’d barely got a hand on Sam’s dick before he was coming in his boxers like a teenager, Dean right on his heel as he rut against Sam’s thigh.

They lie there panting on the questionably clean floor of some no name motel reveling the last wall between them had been non-existent for years.

“Anything else you want to tell me?” Dean asked trying not to squirm with the drying mess in his boxers.

“Your necklace is in my backpack.” Sam leaned over and kissed Dean’s collarbone through his tee-shirt. “And when I put it back on later I want you to promise you’ll never take it off again.”

Dean pulled Sam into another wet kiss, his eyes were misty when he pulled back. “Deal.”


	8. Wincest Love Week (Spring 2016) - Day 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated Mature/Explicit 
> 
> Supernatural AU

When they lost their Dad, Sam had been 13 and mad at the world, Dean had just turned 17 and ached for anyone’s approval.

Using what their Dad taught them they kept hunting. They took jobs from Dad’s old friends, trying to stick with who they knew in case they got in over their heads.

They were 16 and 20, respectfully, when they ripped the training wheels off and set them on fire.

They found their Dad kept a safety deposit box in Lawrence and updated it every few months with things he had kept close to the vest.

Like how he knew the yellow eyed demon had come for Sam and not their Mom.  
How his impatience on a hunting partnership had widowed a woman and left a little girl in pigtails without a father.  
That he didn’t know how to tell his boys they had a half-brother in Minnesota.

The book had left the brothers hurt, frustrated, and pissed. In his anger, Dean bloodied his knuckles on a wall because John wasn’t there to take it out on.

Later that night, underneath the Midwestern sky, they shared a stolen bottle of whiskey and vowed to never lie to each other. That no matter how horrible it got they would always be honest and love each other.

\- - -

Dean shook a cigarette from the carton and grabbed it with his lips while his other hand dug in his pocket for his lighter.

“Light?” Sam asked, holding up his own lighter.

Dean grunted a "thanks" as Sam tossed it over the car.

Dean lit the cigarette and watched Sam get situated as he inhaled.

Sam was sitting on the window sill of the passenger door, his feet in the passenger seat, as he spread a map over the top of the Impala.

Dean took another pull and watched Sam as he drummed his fingers against the map with a rhythmic metallic ‘ting’ of the roof.

Sam had his hair pulled back in small ponytail but stray pieces had escaped to brush against his cheeks. The small gauges in his ears were black today, but Dean kept forgetting to tease him about how much they looked like cat butt holes because the intricate tattoo that crawled up the left side of Sam’s neck always caught his eye.

“You find us something?” Dean asked on his next exhale.

Sam flashed him that cocky grin Dean loved so much, “Found a tattoo parlor about two hours out.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, “You finally gonna get ‘Property of Dean Winchester’ across your ass?”

Sam snorted half a laugh, “ ‘Course. It’s going right below the Hello Kitty.”

Dean flicked the ash of his cigarette away and took a few steps to the left to keep the wind from carrying the smoke Sam’s direction.

Sam hated the smell of the smoke which was just as well because Dean refused to light up in his baby. So they stopped for afternoon smoke breaks often.

“What’s next? The Enochian warding?”

Sam nodded and pulled out a well-worn piece of paper from his back pocket.

Since Sam started having death visions about 6 months ago they’d been loading up on the protective ink.

Before things felt like they started to go south, they’d each had two small personal pieces. Nothing they couldn’t cover up with whatever costume they needed to wear to get on the inside of a hunt.

That all changed the night Sam woke up to a dream of Pastor Jim lying in a pool of his own blood.

Dean had dialed Pastor Jim as a reassurance, but when he didn’t answer they drove all night to get to his parish but it had been too late.

Somehow Dean knew it had to do with yellow eyes. That day he hauled Sam’s ass in for an anti-possession tattoo he’d been eyeing for a few months. Dean got the same one and Sam had been so hot seeing the matching ink on their skin he’d started researching protective sigils like it was going out of style.

They had eight now, and a few more personal ones because what good are tattoos if they don’t show off a little bit of what’s inside of you?

Dean’s favorite, by far, was the one they’d given each other.

A blood-of-my-blood piece that doubled as a location tracking spell if they were ever separated. Sam had spent a few weeks plotting it out, making it perfect. Dean had been in charge of making sure if they mixed each other’s blood in with the ink it wouldn’t give them some sudden death disease.

Using an ancient Thai needle kit they’d spent a long weekend in a motel giving each other tattoos by hand.

It had sucked, and Sam had threatened to tie Dean down if he didn’t stop squirming –twice- but the finished product was worth it. An intricate red/black piece that would activate a tracking spell if fresh blood and a chant were applied.

“Hey.” Dean called, grinding the butt of his cigarette into the gravel. Sam was looking at him with an eyebrow raised. “You wanna-?” Dean trailed off and jerked his head behind him to the edge of some timber.

Sam put on his poker face and started slowly folding the map. “Don’t see why we can’t do it right here.” He answered looking up through the hood of his lashes.

Dean glanced at the road not 40 yards away. There hadn’t been a car one drive past them since they pulled over.

“I’m game. Hop in the back seat.”

Sam tossed the folded map to the wheel well and folded his fingers over the roof to lean forward, “Right. Here.” He enounced.

Dean’s dick gave an attentive jerk. If Sam wanted to get bent over on the side of the road out in the open Dean would not be the one to stop him.

Sam must have read his eagerness as he rounded the hood because he was already leaning against the passenger door. Dean wasted no time tangling his fingers in Sam’s stupid long hair and pulling him in for a quick kiss.

As gross as it was, conditioning had Sam getting hot at the taste of tobacco on Dean’s tongue. If they were behind closed doors Sam would have taken his time and gone much slower but the thrill of knowing someone could drive by at any moment and see them had him working open the belt and zipper of Dean’s jeans.

Sam dropped to his knees and mouthed at Dean’s length through the denim. Pushing Dean’s shirt up Sam kissed at the blood-of-my-blood tattoo on Dean’s hip before giving it a flat-tongued lick.

Dean rocked his hips towards Sam’s mouth, “You got lube on you?” Dean asked watching Sam with lust blown eyes.

Sam moved down to free Dean’s dick from his boxers and ran a thumb over the head, “Don’t tuck yourself away if you have to dig through the duffels.” Sam told him before swallowing him down.

“Fucking hell Sammy.” Dean groaned fisting Sam’s hair in his hand to hold him down only to release him after a few long seconds.

Sam bobbed over Dean’s hard length and started patting Dean’s pockets down looking for lube. He lifted his lighter from Dean’s pocket before trying for Dean’s jacket pocket.

Dean held him by the hair and moved away, “What are you doing you klepto?”

Sam wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood, “Multitasking. Was my lighter anyway and checked you for lube.”

Dean tugged at Sam’s hair to get him to go back to sucking his dick, “Why would I ask if I had some?”

Sam brushed off Dean’s hold of his hair and started undoing his own belt and jeans, “Because you’ve lied to go in spit slick before. I know there is some in my backpack. Don’t-“

“Tuck in, yeah yeah I hear ya you perv.” Dean teased as he started for the back of the car. He unlocked the trunk and dug through Sam’s backpack. He heard the semi truck long before he saw it, and facing inside the trunk there was no way anything looked like it was hanging out on him but it was still embarrassing to think some old dirty trucker just saw his junk.

“Having fun?” Sam called with a laugh in his voice.

“Buckets.” Dean growled.

Sam had shed his jacket and had his pants around his thighs, his hands braced against the roof by the time Dean got back to him. Dean couldn’t be 100% the trucker hadn’t seen Sam like this too.

Dean dropped a swap to Sam’s bare ass, “Such a horn dog.” Dean said affectionately as he popped the cap to the lube and covered a few of his fingers.

“Says the guy hard enough to pound nails.” Sam said looking over his shoulder.

“No.” Dean cooed tracing two fingers over Sam’s hole, “Just you,” before pushing in to the second knuckle.

Sam turned his face into his bicep as he arched against the car.

“Fuck. It’s gonna be quick Sammy. I’ve been thinking about this ass since Portland.”

Sam moaned and leaned further against the door, trying to expose more his ass. “We’ve had sex since then.” Came his breathless response.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not constantly on my mind.” Dean said slicking his dick with the lube before pocketing the bottle. He lined himself up and pushed all the way in with one thrust.

“Holy. God.” Sam growled dropping a hand to his dick and pumped.

Dean was pretty sure he had a witty retort along the lines of ‘The name is Dean, sweetheart’ but the way Sam’s hand working over his own dick made all coherent thought flee his brain.

After a few thrusts to test how open Sam was, Dean set a pace that had the Impala rocking from Sam using the door as support.

“Made for this Sammy. Made for my dick.” He praised running a hand up Sam’s back under his shirts, Sam mewed and arched under the touch.

Dean raked his nails down Sam’s back and he went off like a shot, groaning as he spilt over his hand. Sam dropped his forehead against the door and moaned with every aftershock Dean’s thrusting sent through his body.

As if wanting to hurry the show along, Sam reached under them with come slick fingers and palmed at Dean’s balls. Dean’s breath caught and he quickly pulled out, stripping his own dick twice before he was coming all over Sam’s ass.

Sam slumped further against the door and sighed in content.

Dean panted as he watched a trail of come race down the globe of Sam’s ass.

Just as Dean was about to rub the second drop of come into Sam’s skin, a minivan zoomed by. Dean could feel his face flame red in embarrassment as he tucked himself back into his briefs, “Get in the car before we get arrested.”

Sam’s laugh followed him all the way around to the driver’s seat.


	9. Wincest Love Week (Spring 2016) - Day 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated General
> 
> Undercover/Mistaken Identity

Sometimes it was easier to not correct people’s assumptions. Most often a civilian filling in the blanks helped them get the information they needed.

Dean usually led the introductions depending on how close the witness had been to the victim. Sam dealt with immediate family and close friends. They found it just worked better that way, Sam being a walking bundle of empathy and all.

The cases of mistaken identity were always fun to con because there was a time limit. They had to get in and get out before the real deal showed up and blew their cover. So it was entirely Sam’s fault when the distraught mother of the victim met them at the door and thanked them for changing their minds with fat tears in her eyes.

“Of course. “ Sam agreed, hiding his confusion and lying through his teeth.

She ushered them in, and in a manner they were only familiar with in the south, she’d politely -yet forcefully- taken their jackets and hung them in the entry closet.

“My husband is convinced this whole paranormal psychic couple thing is a hoax but you’re here so you can prove him wrong. Shoes off if you don’t mind.” She said happily going to the living room and expecting them to follow.

“Paranormal psychic couple thing?” Dean muttered to Sam as he bent to unlace his boots.

Sam had his phone in hand as he toed off his shoes. “The only hit I’m getting is for a paranormal team that specialize is séances and- oh.”

Dean kicked their shoes the direction of the neat row along the wall. “What’s ‘oh’?”

Sam offered him the phone. “An actual couple. ‘Married 8 years and still deeply in love’.” Dean read from the ‘About Us’ section.

“We can bail, call Bobby and have another hunter take this.” Sam offered.

“Naw, we’re already here.” Dean shrugged handing Sam his phone back, “But if it comes up, you asked for my hand.” He said leading the way to the living room.

The wife had been optimistic when she said her husband had been skeptical.

“Don’t you need a lamb to sacrifice or something for this?” He asked when they sat down.

Dean made it his mission to fuck with the guy. “No, just a liter of blood from a member of the family should do. If it helps you can think of yourself as a lamb?”

Sam shot Dean a pissed look before going for compassionate with the couple. “He’s joking of course. We will need supplies to perform the ritual but our policy is we get to understand your situation before we begin.”

“But we told you everything on the phone.” The wife argued.

“Of course, but hearing it over the phone and seeing your aura while you tell us are two very different things.” Sam lied smoothly.

She seemed pacified with the answer and took her husband’s hand for support and told them all about their son’s accident.

Out of mirroring habits to get what they wanted, Dean took Sam’s hand and laced their fingers together over his knee.

Sam squeezed back in surprise but otherwise didn’t acknowledge the contact.

Two could play this game.

Due to the injuries their son had received he was staying with his grandparents while child services investigated the couple.

He’d been in his room while the mother was downstairs making dinner. The lights had flickered and she heard a loud thump from upstairs. When he didn’t answer the call to come down for dinner she found him bruised and unconscious on his floor.

Apparently they’d had a couple different electricians in to see about the flickering lights of the house. An exterminator once to set some rat traps but they never caught one.

It was oddly refreshing to talk through possibilities with a civilian within earshot.

Half way through Sam’s explanation of how they would do a cleansing ritual -paper and pencil spread out on the coffee table between them because the husband still wasn’t having it- Sam felt Dean’s hand rest on his back. Dean’s hand blazed a warm path up to his neck where it rested while his thumb made small circles against Sam’s skin.

Sam sat back on the couch and put his own hand high on Dean’s thigh while he explained the necessity of having to put holes in the walls.

They took a minor break to rummage through the trunk of the Impala. “You ok with what’s going on in there?” Sam asked as he sorted through their box of herbs.

“Listening to you shatter some poor shmuck’s innocence about the world? Just peachy.” Dean answered making sure they had enough rocksalt shells for when the spirit joined the party.

“No, with the- the touching.”

Dean fumbled the shell he was loading before trying again with forced casualness. “Selling it. If that guy is skeptical about this cover story he might not believe anything else you have to stay.” For the millionth time Sam wished Dean would stop venomously denying he was incredibly intelligent. “If we’re supposed to be crazy about each other gotta show the spark is still alive, right?”

Sam nodded and closed the false bottom of the trunk so he had space to put together the protective bags. “Selling it?” Sam asked again, just to be sure they were on the same page.

“Selling it.” Dean agreed.

With their little talk as permission to up the deeply-in-love game they couldn’t go three minutes without palming each other in some way.

They’d gone through the house and marked all the places they’d put holes all the while brushing against each other, leaning over the other’s shoulder, and one heart pounding moment when they had a brief conflict of placement and Dean had reached up to tenderly brushed Sam’s hair away from his eyes.

Sam’s heart had leapt to his throat and he had to turn away to keep Dean from seeing the longing that was undoubtedly written across his face.

Placing the bags in the walls went a hell of a lot smoother then the first time they did this to the house in Lawrence (Sam still couldn’t call it their house because it had really never been). The spirit in this house had no idea what hit it when, in tandem, they put the bags in the walls. Working in sync didn’t give the spirit time to focus on either of them individually.

When the last two bags went into the wall an ear piercing wail rang out loud enough for the neighbors to hear, meaning the couple they’d banished to the front lawn had also heard.

When they came outside the wife gave a happy squeal and wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck who looked equally happy. Apparently his skepticism had died with the poltergeist.

Sam glanced at Dean who was looking at him with a small smirk on his lips. He tilted his head, green eyes flicked to the couple kissing on the front lawn, before looking back at Sam but he made no move to mimic the kiss.

Tired of being teased all day long Sam grabbed Dean’s face in his hands and brought their lips together in a deep kiss.

It might look like a celebratory kiss to outsiders, and to Sam it almost was, but the frantic energy was because he’d been wanting to do this for years, and- and Dean started it!

“Thank you so much!” The wife said making them come back to the here and now - standing on the steps of someone’s porch with the taste of each other on their lips. “If you’re as dedicated to this,” she waved at the house, “as you are to each other I don’t think we’ll ever have to worry about the house again.”

Sam agreed and released Dean from his hold to turn and formally tell them the house was clean and how to get a hold of them if anything else came up.

They got in the car and drove a few miles to a local diner. Dean killed the engine and they sat in silence for a few long silent minutes.

“Today wasn’t awful.” Dean finally said.

“Which part? Playing gay chicken with your brother or feeling like we did honest work?” Sam asked.

Dean bit at his lip and drummed at the steering wheel with his thumb. “Both. I think.”

Sam shifted in his seat to look at Dean. “Seriously?” Dean gave an indifferent shrug Sam saw right through. “Wanna get the food to go and head back to the motel?”

“Fuck yes.”


	10. Wincest Love Week (Spring 2016) - Day 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated Mature/Explicit
> 
> Valentine's Day

Sam opened the door to their motel and froze.

His first thought was Dean broke something and this was his outlandish way of apologizing.

There were deep red rose petals scattered all over the floor, leading to the beds, and then scattered across the bed with only the fitted sheet still on it.

There was lube and massage oil lined up along the nightstand between the beds, along with a couple of their unlit séance candles.

“Dean?”

“Good you’re back. I got everything set up.” He said ushering Sam a few more steps inside and closing the door behind him.

Dean took the food Sam forgot he’d left to fetch and set it on the counter.

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything. I wanted us to have a little Valentine’s Day something.”

Ah, Valentine’s Day. Sam didn’t know how to tell him Valentine’s Day was a corporate gimmick to get people to spend their money on overpriced flowers and chocolates so people can feel like they’ve made up for the other 364 days of the year they don’t do anything nice for their better half.

Dean didn’t need to do this because he did random thoughtful things for Sam all the time.

From stashing Sam’s favorite candy bars in random places -like his backpack and laptop bag- to cleaning Sam’s gun because he “felt like it and you were in the shower”.

And one memorable time they’d been driving through Colorado in the middle of spring, Dean got him flowers.

-

“Hey Sam, see those flowers.” Dean asked, gesturing to the pretty looking wild flower alongside the road.

“Yeah.”

“Get me some.”

“What?”

Dean pulled over so fast they’d skidded a little along the gravel shoulder, “Flowers, hurry!”

Sam jumped out and snagged a few of the flowers, roots and all, before jumping back in as Dean tore off down the road.

Sam handed Dean the dirt covered flowers and for the next few miles Dean steered with his knee as he dumped the roots and leaves out the window.

When he had a clean handful of flowers he offered them back to Sam with a grin, “Here. I got you some flowers.”

-

Sam –like the sap he was- had pressed one of them in his journal.

As gruff as Dean wanted to come across he was a romantic at heart. So this whole day-time-TV-romantic scene shouldn’t have surprised Sam as much as it did.

“What do ya’ say Sammy? Wanna join me?” Dean asked shaking a little box of chocolates.

Sam had to stop himself from reaching out and snatching them from Dean’s hand, those were really good chocolates.

Focus he reminded himself. “We’ve never celebrated Valentine’s Day, what makes this year different?”

Dean shrugged, “Dunno what changed but I know I’ve been wanted to do something for you.” He paused for a beat, “Since right around the time you did the reverse cowgirl.”

Sam felt his cheeks flush, ok so Dean wasn’t a romantic with words so much.

“If Sundays are still force-Dean-to-eat-rabbit-food, dinner will keep for at least one round, right?” Dean asked hopefully.

At Sam’s nod Dean smiled and grabbed his hand, leading him to the bed.

Dean sat him down and bent to give Sam a peck on the lips. “Don’t move.” He commanded and moved around the beds.

Sam watched him light the three candles before walking over and shutting off the light. The room was cast into shadows and a warm yellow glow as the candles danced.

Dean came back to stand in front of him.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Sam informed him.

Dean brushed back a stray piece of hair from Sam’s cheek, “No,” he agreed, “but I want to.”

Dean leaned in and gave him another kiss on the lips as his fingers moving to unbutton Sam’s shirt. When the first layer came off Dean gave a whispered commanded of “Up” and tugged at Sam’s undershirt.

Sam lifted his arms and Dean worked the dark cotton over his head. When the shirt came away Dean dropped another peck to Sam’s lips.

“Scoot up on the bed.” Dean whispered stepping back to work off his own pants.

Sam moved back on the bed, toeing his shoes off as he went.

When he started on his belt buckle Dean climbed on the bed only in his boxers and tee-shirt to swat Sam’s hands away, “Let me.”

Sam dropped his hands to the bed and Dean worked open Sam’s belt and zipper. He grabbed at the denim on Sam’s thighs and tugged, Sam lifted his hips and Dean pulled him free of his pants. Dean took off both socks and briefly rubbed at Sam’s heels before dropping a kiss to the inside of each ankle.

He kissed his way back up Sam’s body, a press of lips to each knee, an opened mouthed kiss against each hipbone, the barest hint of teeth followed by the sweep of a warm tongue against his nipples.

Dean straddled Sam’s hips, their slowly awakening arousal separated by the body-warm-cotton of their boxers.

Dean reached over to the night stand and came away with a bottle. “Hope vanilla is okay, everything else smelled like the inside of a brothel.”

Still not a poet, Sam thought with a laugh, “I’m sure it’s fine.”

Dean squeezed a sizable amount in to his hands before rubbing them together. He started by smearing a long warm streak straight down Sam’s chest to the top of his boxers. He worked small firm circles from Sam’s shoulders down to the bottom of his rib-cage before starting back at his shoulders and massaging down Sam’s arms.

When he’d worked his way to Sam’s hips he hooked a finger into the elastic of Sam’s boxers and worked them down as he knee-walked the length of Sam’s legs.

“Good so far Sammy?” Dean asked, his voice husky with arousal.

It took more effort to talk then Sam expected, “So far.”

Dean nudged open Sam’s legs so he could settle between them and start to massage Sam’s hips in small circles. He avoids brushing Sam’s hard dick as he worked his way down to rub high along on the inside of Sam’s thighs just shy of touching the back of a knuckle to Sam’s exposed balls.

Working steadily down Sam’s thighs Dean applied more pressure than he had to his chest, pressing his fingers into the solid muscle of Sam’s leg.

Dean palmed along Sam’s shin bone, a teasing pressure of how good it would feel if he were to rub at the muscle of Sam’s calf.

At Sam’s feet Dean sat on the bed with his legs crossed and lifted Sam’s foot into his lap.

Sam lets out a loud moan when Dean dug his thumb into the ball of Sam’s foot and pushes outwards. He rubbed at Sam’s foot so long that when he switched it brought Sam back from the pleasure induced sleep state he’d fallen into.

Lying awake as Dean rubbed at his heel Sam noticed the cool air of the motel teasing at the tip of his leaking dick. He hadn’t realized how turned on he was, but as the drip of precome eased down the underside of his dick the need to come felt like it was crawling beneath his skin.

Just as he was about to reach for his cock to relieve some pressure Dean set his foot back to the mattress and settled back between Sam’s legs.

“How you doing Sammy?”

Sam pumped his hips once, his erection bobbing under Dean’s chin from where he was hovered over him. “Dean, I need you to touch me.”

Dean smirked and settled a hand along Sam’s thigh, the knuckle of his thumb tucked alongside Sam’s ball. “That good huh?”

“Please.” His request came out more like a whine than he intended.

Dean pet a soothing hand down Sam’s side, “Shh, okay Sammy, okay.” Dean used his hand along Sam’s hip to brace himself and leaned down to kitten lick the tip of Sam’s dick.

Sam grabbed at Dean’s hair and guided him to take more. Dean’s wet mouth open obediently around him, his tongue pressing against the underside of his dick.

“So good Dean.” Sam praised breathlessly as he tried to thrust up against Dean’s hold on his hip.

Dean started bobbing his head and Sam’s free hand fisted in the sheets. He let out a moan that Dean took as encouragement to start sucking harder. His other hand, still slick from the massage oil, came up to wrap around the base of Sam’s dick and pump in unison with his mouth.

Sam grip on Dean’s hair tightened and he came with Dean’s name on his lips.

Dean swallowed around him then pulled back with a wet pop, trailing slick fingers up and down Sam’s sensitive dick making him shutter from the light touch.

“Need a break?” Dean asked crawling over him to sit alongside his hip.

Sam shook his head, “No, just a few minutes.”

“Good, roll over.” Dean commanded pushing a hand under Sam’s shoulder and under his thigh trying to force him to roll over, and mostly succeeding, for how bone relaxed Sam felt.

Sam settled on his stomach with a sigh as he heard Dean squeeze more oil into his hands. He smeared another trail of warm slick oil down Sam’s back, as he’d done to his chest, but with no boxers he was able to continue down Sam’s ass to the back of his thighs.

Dean straddled Sam’s thighs and started by immediately digging his thumbs into the knots along Sam’s shoulders. “And this is why you’re so emo all the time.” Dean informed him.

Sam moaned as Dean’s skillful thumbs found -and started easing- another tense set of muscles, too distracted to toss back an insult more witty than, “Shut up.”

Dean chuckled and ran hands down Sam’s spine a couple times before resuming work at his shoulders.

Slowly Dean started pacing down Sam’s spine. Giving firm attention to every tense set of muscles along the way.

Sam was back in the pleasure induced head-space when Dean’s lips pressed against the middle of his back.

Against the scar that had killed him.

“Dean.” Sam called, he couldn’t put the words together to tell Dean he was here, that he wasn’t going anywhere.

But as always Dean heard him, “I know Sammy.” He pressed another kiss to Sam’s back and was moving on, digging into Sam’s lower back and relieving the tension that lived there these days.

When Dean started kneading his ass Sam felt the pleasure race up his spine and cause goosebumps to raise across his arms.

Dean either didn’t notice, or he ignored it because he was moving further down, pressing against the back of Sam’s thighs. He worked his way down Sam’s legs, keeping the pressure hard enough to make Sam groan when he hit a particularly tight muscle.

Dean’s touch was firm as he trailed his fingers back up Sam’s legs, kneading Sam’s ass again before running his hands down Sam’s sides, “On your knees Sammy.”

Sam tucked his legs under him, moving as Dean pushed at the inside of his knees to get him to spread farther apart.

Sometime between Dean’s kiss on his back and now, his dick had reawaken to join the party. Dean noticed and wrapped a slicked hand around it from where it hung heavy between Sam’s legs, he teased at the head with his thumb until he had Sam in the position he wanted. With a final teasing flick over the head Dean released him in favor of the lube and ridding himself of his tee-shirt and boxers.

Sam heard the familiar pop of the lid quickly followed by the feeling of Dean’s fingers rubbing at his hole.

“So perfect Sammy.” Dean praised pushing the two fingers in.

Sam moaned and tilted his hips already wanting more.

Dean alternated between twisted his fingers and pumping them in and out of Sam’s tight heat.He added a third finger to Sam’s moaning approval. Pumping the three fingers in and out, he rubbed at Sam’s prostate just to hear his breath catch.

At Sam’s second impatient whine -that Dean could distinguish between the others only because he liked to bring Sam to the edge of begging before giving him what he wanted- Dean removed his fingers and wiped them on the bed sheet before slicking his dick with more lube.

Just to draw out the teasing Dean wrapped his hand around Sam’s dick, earning a grunt of surprise, and making it nice and slick while he pushed at Sam’s lower back until he spread his legs wide enough so his ass was in the air and his dick brushed against the mattress.

Satisfied with his position Dean rutted against the cleft of Sam’s ass a few time before lining himself up and easing in. Sam fisted the sheets and moaned at the feeling of being stretched and filled.

Dean pressed his warm, bare chest across Sam’s back, trusting him to take their combined weight. He tangled his fingers in the hair above Sam’s ear and gave it a tug, turning Sam’s head to allow Dean’s lips and warm breath to tease against Sam’s ear as he whispered, “Feel so good Sammy.” Sam shuttered beneath him at the praise, “So tight and hot around my dick. Want to just stay here forever.”

Dean braced himself with an arm above Sam’s shoulder and gave a shallow thrust. “I’m going to fuck you now Sammy. Try to stay right where I put you.”

Dean pressed a kiss behind Sam’s ear and sat back on his knees. Grabbing Sam’s hips to keep him in place, Dean started thrusting with long strokes. Rubbing against Sam’s prostate with every calculated thrust.

Only when Dean started to pick up the pace did Sam realize why Dean wanted him in this position. Dean’s quick thrusts were causing Sam’s dick to grind against the sheets held down by his own stomach. The lube Dean had covered his dick with made the friction an intense direct stimulation to his cock head.

Sam moaned and tried to buck away from the mattress because he didn’t want to come again before Dean had once. As if reading his mind, Dean pet a hand down Sam’s back and braced himself against Sam’s shoulder and started thrusting harder.

“Feel like you need to come again Sammy?” Dean panted, driving in harder.

Sam could feel the coil in his belly being wound tight, Dean pounding into him, the unrelenting pleasure against his dick.

Dean leaned over him again, his warm bare chest slick against Sam’s back from the oil, “Want to you to come for me Sammy. Want to feel you come with my dick inside you.”

Sam let out a yell that the sheets couldn’t quite muffle as he came for the second time that night. He moaned a protest at the over-stimulation as Dean continued to pound into him and his cock head rubbed against the sheets.

He tried to squirm out from under Dean’s body but Dean’s grip on his hips held him still.

Just when he thought he couldn’t take anymore, Dean dug his fingers into Sam’s hips and fucked him through his own orgasm.

The flood of molten heat that was Dean’s come and the wild thrusts against his prostate had Sam coming for a third time with a breathless cry.

Dean dropped his head to Sam’s back as he stilled and they caught their breath.

Dean hooked his leg under Sam’s, rolling them onto their sides.

“Should make Valentine’s Day a tradition.” Dean sighed into Sam’s shoulder.

Sam couldn’t find his words so he just moaned in agreement.

\- - -

A quick shower was in order to rinse the massage oil off his skin but by the time he came out of the shower Dean had the chicken salads laid out on the other, clean bed.

They ate by candle light and comfortable silence with their shoulders pressed together.

Dessert was a couple pieces each of the fancy chocolate for dessert.

Dean put out the candles and as they lie in the dark Dean pulled Sam into the circle of his arms, his face tucked against the crown of Sam’s head.

Sam was almost asleep when Dean started whispering, “Sorry I don’t say it enough.”

Sam turned his face up in silent question.

“I love you.” Dean whispered.

Sam pressed a kiss to Dean’s collar bone. “I know.” His response earning a huff of laughter from Dean. “And I love you too.“


	11. Wincest Love Week (Summer 2016) - Day 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bodyswap - Rating: “Teen And Up Audiences"

It was Dean’s fault, as it usually was, Sam thought sourly. If he’d just listened to Sam and stayed outside like they’d agreed, Sam wouldn’t be staring at himself driving the Impala.

Dean, in Sam’s body, driving the Impala.

They’d followed a story-book-style decrepit old witch into a wooden shack in the woods near a small town where 5 children had gone missing already.

They’d killed the witch, and found the children, but not before Sam had tripped a magic-alarm.

In his surprise, he’d cried out and that had brought Dean to his “rescue”. Covering them both with a fine powder and the pleased laugh of the old witch.

Dean had shot the witch point blank, between the eyes, mid-cackle. Destroying any chance they had to learn what she’d done until they woke up the next morning.

After Sam flipped through her poorly coded spell book -no wonder she had been so sloppy with her kidnappings if this was anything to go by- and found the spell used on them.

It was temporary, but still infuriating.

Other than the unmanly yelp Dean woke Sam with this morning, Dean didn’t seem all that phased to be in the wrong body.

First thing Dean did was demand Sam get out of bed as he started shoving the mattresses and box springs up against the wall making space on the floor.

Dean, brushing Sam’s long hair out of his face every few seconds, waited long enough for Sam to tug one of Dean’s shirts on before they spent the next 45 minutes sparring on the floor of their motel room.

Dean’s grunt of pain brought Sam out of his brooding.

“What?” Sam asked, the traitorous thought that somehow Sam’s cage memories were affecting Dean.

Dean winced again and tongued the inside of his mouth, “I just bit my cheek.”

“Spit the gum out.” Sam demanded biting back a frustrated sigh.

“No, I’ll just be more careful.” Dean argued before going back to singing along with Judas Priest’s ‘Breaking the Law’.

Sam did sigh this time, dropping his head back to the backrest and willing a diner to appear. Singing had never really been his thing but he hadn’t thought it was that bad. 

Sam jerked his head as if to get his hair out of his eyes for what felt like the hundredth fruitless time. Apparently the muscle memory didn’t stay with the body because Dean’s hair was so short the gesture just looked stupid when Sam did it. 

And he did it a lot. Maybe his hair was a bit long…?

Dean made another grunt of pain and moved his hand to cover his mouth.

Sam sighed, “Did you seriously just do it again?”

“Yeah. I think I’m bleeding.” Dean cursed as he rolled down the window and spit the gum out.

Sam sighed again and rubbed at the start of a headache behind his eyes.

The nearest Greasy Spoon advertised a special of bacon and sausage and Sam knew he was going to have to be okay with bacon flavored egg white omelets - if they even had that option.

Sam flipped open the menu and scanned the page, “Holy crap, you’re practically blind.”

Dean looked away from the local athletic section of newspaper framed on the wall to frown at Sam, “No I’m not.” 

Sam gestured to the menu folded in front of him, “What does the Country Farm Special come with?”

Huffing, Dean found the page Sam was referring to, reading off, “Choice of biscuits and gravy or hash browns and choice of toast.”

Sam held up the menu with his finger over the words, “You can’t read that, they’re just blurred lines. No wonder you always go with the specials.” Sam paused, “or pancakes and bacon.”

Dean took Sam’s lip between his teeth as he brushed the hair from his eyes. “It’s not that bad.” 

Sam was about to scold him for biting his lip when the waitress came to fill their coffee cups and take their order.

“Would you be pissed if I got them checked later?” Sam asked once she’d left them alone again.

“Knock yourself out.” Dean shrugged, “But only if you don’t get like, coke bottle glasses.“

Nodding, Sam agreed. 

As long as he could keep the focus on Dean maybe this curse wouldn’t be so bad after all.

(Sam traded their plates after the waitress dropped them off on the table, much to Dean’s protest but Sam knew how well his stomach handled those syrup-soaked pancakes.)

The rest of the day was uneventful, Dean had found a pair of sunglasses and was using them as a mock headband to keep Sam’s hair out of his eyes. It didn’t look as stupid as it could have. 

The eye doctor had given Sam an eye prescription but he’d picked up a strong pair of reading glasses from the dollar store until they could get it properly filled and paid for.

Settled at the motel for the night Sam took two pills with a glass of water for his headache that he could officially attribute to having to squint to see clearly. “I’m going to shower.” Sam announced grabbing sleep clothes. 

“Don’t forget to clean the pipes.” Dean called after him.

Sam rolled his eyes and huffed. He wasn’t going to touch Dean’s junk any more than he needed to and for hygiene purposes alone. 

And if he marveled at the faint freckles on Dean’s dick under the spray of the shower his brother didn’t need to know.

Dean woke Sam up the next morning with coffee. He’d already showered, dressed, and picked up the local paper. 

“It’s disgusting how much of a morning person you are.” Dean commented as he held out the cup to Sam. 

Sam squinted up at him, Dean’s eyes really were fucking terrible. “Thanks” He muttered accepting the coffee.

Dean turned back to his bed where he had the guns laid out and was meticulously cleaning them. 

Sam blinked, how long had Dean been awake? But more importantly, “Are you wearing a ponytail?” 

The hair above his ears was swept back into a half ponytail, the rest falling free to hang just above his shoulders. 

Sam watched as his own eyes blinked owlishly up at him as Dean’s embarrassment grew, “Your hair is driving me fucking crazy. But if I don’t have to think about it, it’s not so bad.” 

Sam took a sip of his black coffee, “Huh.” He never messed with his hair that much. It didn’t bother him enough for him to do something about it. Apparently Dean felt differently. 

“Hey, did you uh,” Dean started, pantomimed jerking off before giving a meaningful glance at Sam’s lap, “clean out the cobwebs?” 

Sam was sure if he were in his own body he would be blushing. “Of course Dean. First thing.” He snapped forcing as much sarcasm as he could into the five words. 

Dean ducked his head and went back to cleaning the guns with a muttered, “Good.”

After the cup of coffee, Sam felt as much like himself as he could in his brother’s body. But as the day went on he noticed every little thing was turning his head. 

The way their waitress’ uniform stretched across her chest made Sam wonder what her breasts would feel like cupped in his palms. 

The sound Dean had made when he stretched, arms over his head, sliver of skin showing at his hip had made his borrowed dick twitch. 

The gal giving him change had smiled and he felt his body lit up like the 4th of July and he wondered what she tasted like.

The way Dean’s fingers would linger on a piece of hair as he tucked behind his ear, made Sam wondered what else those fingers could be put to use for. 

Sam was convinced he was going crazy by the time the sun went down. 

He’d never been physically swayed by anyone before, it had always started as a mental attraction, so the fact there were two -he wasn’t counting Dean- had been able to get a reaction out of him was alarming.

And now, here Dean was -who still didn’t technically count- chewing on the end of a pen and Sam couldn’t look away. 

Dean set the pen cap between his lips and tapped at the keyboard a few times before going back to sucking on it. 

Dean caught himself chewing on the end of a pen and decided the whole oral fixation thing ran in the family because Sam has it too.

It was just Dean who bit his lip.

Which reminded him his lower lip was sore from the unaccustomed place between his teeth. Sam had no tolerance for it.

“You know,” Dean said, snapping Sam out of his plotting to walk across the room and tug Dean into a kiss, “That waitress earlier was pretty hot.”

Sam had to take half a moment longer to remember what waitress. “Oh. Yeah, I guess.”

“And for some reason, she was completely uninterested in you. Which if I think about long enough, is actually kind of insulting to me.” Dean finished the thought by popping the pen cap back into his mouth and running his tongue across it a few times.

Sam felt like he swallowed loud enough Dean heard him from across the room. 

Deciding he wasn’t getting enough rise out of Sam, Dean had switched tactics. “Did you jerk off yesterday like I told you?” Dean asked glancing at Sam over the lid of the laptop.

“What? No.” Sam answered with a shake of his head. 

Dean sat back in the cheap metal chair of the motel room, “I thought yours was going to start chafing by how long it takes you to get it done. No wonder you never want to hook up, it would take most of the night just to get you there.” 

Shocked, Sam sputtered, “Don’t-Don’t touch my dick, Dean!” 

Dean laughed and closed the lid of the laptop, “Come on Sammy, it’s just me. S’not like I haven’t seen it before.” 

Dean came to sit on the opposite bed Sam was propped up on with a book between his knees and a pair of cheap reading glasses on his nose. 

“Yeah, well I didn’t-didn’t-” Sam gestured at his lap, the bathroom all in one sweep, “-touch your junk.” 

“Do you want to?” Dean asked not looking away.

Sam didn’t want to lie but he still wanted his brother after this whole mess was said and done.

“Cause I know I really want to.” Dean told him without breaking eye contact. 

Sam could recognize the hungry look in Dean’s eyes even though he’d never experienced it firsthand. He wondered briefly if the look in Dean’s eye was something Sam had all along, or if that was pure Dean.

“Yeah?” Sam exhaled hoping against all hope Dean wasn’t just fucking with him.

“Yeah.” Dean continued, moving across the beds and crawling between Sam’s legs with the grace of a cat. “That and if you fuck me it doesn’t really count ‘cause you’re still technically the catcher.” Sam huffed a laugh of disbelief but Dean powered on, “I mean, it might even help you. Extra stimulation and all that.”

Sam shut him up by grabbing Dean by his long hair and tugged him into a hard kiss. 

\- - - 

Sam woke up first the next morning, in his own body. He was draped over Dean like a second blanket, his arm trapped between Dean and the mattress. 

Doubt and regret threatened to choke him as the day before come rushing back. 

Sure he’d mapped out his own body with kisses from Dean’s lips, but it had still been his brother in there.

They’d crossed a line there was no coming back from.

Sam got as far as to free his arm from under Dean before Dean’s hold on him tightened long enough for him to mutter, “Don’t. Stay.” 

Sam relaxed back against his brother’s chest with what felt like relief.

As long as Dean was okay with it, they would be fine. 

They could even afford to sleep in before the heat of the day worked its way into the motel and they became a sweaty, sticky mess. 

“Shut up. I can hear you thinking from here.” Dean muttered as he buried his face into Sam’s shoulder. 

Sam sighed and closed his eyes. 

They were going to be fine


	12. Wincest Love Week (Summer 2016) - Day 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going to the Beach – Rating: “General”
> 
> I could have written about this outing for a week alone and still not think it would be enough to cover all the things the boys would do if they had a vacation...

Dean had been dozing in the passenger seat since they’d crossed the California border. They were supposed to be headed to Oregon, looking into a possible werewolf but the full moon was still four days away and they had time.

Three days.

They would have three days to recharge their batteries, and hopefully it would be enough to get those tense lines out of Dean’s shoulders.

Dean had always joked about taking a day and going to the beach to watch the waves roll in, but they’d never quite got around to it. Kind of like how they’d driven by the Grand Canyon numerous times but hadn’t taken the time to actually stop in years. Well, they hadn’t stopped since before Sam hit puberty at least.

Sam had booked the secluded cabins in California months ago, hoping maybe this year they’d be able to take the time and actually make it out. It was a quiet time of year. School wasn’t quite out yet but the weather was unseasonably warm making for good lounging weather

Sam had been squirreling away a little less than half the winnings of each poker game for years now.

Some of it was in his footlocker (enough for a decent down payment on a house if Dean ever suggested they try for a home base) and the rest Sam used to make a deposit to reserve a beach cabin. It was the same resort Jess used to take him when he lived in California. So Sam was sure that Dean would love it.

If Sam could get him out there, but each year something would come up.

They’d be on a hunt on the East Coast.

Lucifer was running around talking to Sam in his dreams.

Castiel was running around playing God.

Every year like clockwork something would come up and Sam would have to cancel.

But not his year.

With Dean exhausted in the passenger seat and a scheduled hunt on their plate, there was nothing keeping Sam from planting Dean in the sand with a beer and the sun.

 

Enough groceries for five days -because Dean liked to pack it away when he was comfortable- along with a variety of the “hipster beers” Sam preferred that Dean denied liking.

“Where are we going again?”

“It’s a surprise Dean, stop asking.”

Sam snuck away and brought them swim trunks and oddly enough sunscreen. Sunscreen wasn’t something they used often but the exposure they were about to get would be more than the natural/remedy paste they used for their wounds would be able to handle. It was sun resistant, not sunscreen.

 

They got in a few hours before sundown the first day.

The cabin was small, one king bed taking up most of the space in the small bedroom.

Beach themed wallpaper wrapped around the living room and small dining room. Imported shells and fossilized starfish decorated the bathroom that had a shower big enough for both of them if they wanted.

All in all, the little cabin was more tasteful than some of the motels they’d stayed at this year alone. But it was the yard, the grill, and the beach access that Sam was the most excited about.

There wasn’t enough daylight to enjoy a beach dinner so Dean made burgers and they drank beer as the sun was setting.

Taking the early turn-in as part of the vacation they shared the California King bed.

Hyper aware of the other laying so close.

 

The second day Dean made a bacon and egg-white breakfast.

“It’s nothing, just you know-“ Dean paused, “A way to thank you for setting this up.”

Sam didn’t need breakfast, he could tell how appreciative Dean was by the way he’d dropped a hand to the back of Sam’s neck as he set his plate at the table , and in the way their knees touched as Dean sat in his own seat.

Sam wanted to express how grateful he was that Dean agreed to a vacation, but he couldn’t find the words.

Instead, he took a second helping of breakfast, knowing Dean would recognize the gesture for what it was.

 

They packed the patio lounge furniture down to the secluded beach and set the cooler between them in the sand.

Four hours, two six packs, one lopsided sand castle, and one failed drowning attempt later, Sam suggested they head to the docks and pick up fresh fish for dinner.

Dean, still glowering from Sam bodily picking him up and throwing him at an incoming wave, only let Sam pick one of the three kinds of fish.

Dinner was cooked over the fire pit. The fish had been seasoned and wrapped in tinfoil next to tinfoil-ed vegetables Sam insisted cooking.

They watched the sunset and the stars come out while intermittently fork dueling over the campfire cooked dinner.

 

The third day felt like a more somber occasion. 

Leaving tomorrow felt like a physical weight over their heads.

As the day went on Dean became more deliberate with his touching.

They knees never breaking contact while they ate breakfast.

A hand on Sam’s shoulder when he offered him a beer.

The back of Dean’s fingers brushing Sam’s as they lie on the beach for the second time.

Dean had been entertaining himself by digging his toes into the sand only to bury one foot, wiggle his toes free then bury the other one. “We should go swim.” He announced.

“Yeah, but then we’d have to stop drinking this.” Sam answered, waving his half full beer towards Dean.

Dean snagged the bottle and chugged the bottle in three swallows, “There. Done.” He said dropping the empty glass back into the cooler.

Sam gaped at him in dismay, “Dude, that was my beer!”

“Get another one later, come on.” Dean urged standing and giving Sam’s arm a couple tugs.

Relenting with a huff, Sam gave Dean a push to knock him off balance and started running towards the rolling waves. “Race ya!” He called over his shoulder.

Behind him, he heard Dean yell out “Hey!” Before it was swallowed by the wind.

Sam made it in up to his knees before Dean tackled him into the water. He tried to twist and go for a headlock but Dean was slimy with sunscreen and managed to wiggle free.

They wrestled in the surf long enough for the oil of the sunscreen to lose its slick and be able to get each other in an actual hold before breaking loose to try all over again.

Sam laughed as the water made Dean’s short hair flat against his head and his eyelashes to clump together. The sun shining off the water made his eyes seem brighter and Sam wanted nothing more than to kiss the smile on his lips.

Before his brain could argue rational action surrounding the rarity that was the smiling image of Dean happy in front of him, Sam ducked down and dropped a kiss to the corner of Dean’s mouth.

Dean’s sharp inhale snapped Sam back to the present and the fact he’d just planted one on his brother.

Horrified at what he’d done, Sam took a step back before starting towards the cabin. He wouldn’t run. He couldn’t run. He couldn’t clue Dean into how deeply Sam’s impulse truly ran.

Sam hazardously threw all his clothes into his duffel and was growing frustrated with its inability to zip properly.

Dean standing in the doorway startled him, “We can pretend it didn’t happen.”

Sam clenched the shirt in his hands, of course Dean didn’t understand. Releasing the shirt and bowing over his bag Sam closed his eyes, “I can’t…It’s not that-“

“Just this once.” Dean begged, his voice going low, “Nothing has to change. Please, Sam.”

Sam sighed and glanced up at him. He couldn’t remember the last time Dean looked this relaxed. Looked this vulnerable.

“Okay. Just this once.” Sam repeated.

Dean nodded and smiled at him, “Nothing has to change.”

“Right.” Sam agreed.

Dean gave him another nod before hooking a thumb over his shoulder, “I’m going to go start dinner. If you want to add vegetables you’re going to have to cut them yourself.”

Sam abandoned his attempt to flee to join him.

 

They finished drip drying outside as they waited for the last of the vegetables and fish to cook over the open fire. It was pleasantly warm as they sat in the lounge chairs in their swim trunks.

Too comfortable to get actual silverware they ate the fish and potatoes with their fingers.

Dean stood and Sam thought he was going for another beer only to blink in surprise as Dean straddled his thighs.

“I lied,” Dean said tipping Sam’s chin up. He swept Sam’s hair out of his face and held his gaze, “I don’t want nothing to change.” He cupped Sam’s jaw as he continued, “I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen.”

Sam swallowed and chanced resting his hands on Dean’s hips, “I don’t either.” Sam assured him.

Dean bent to kiss him on the lips. His lips were slick with butter from the vegetables and fish they had eaten. Sam traced his tongue along the seam of Dean’s lips, every bone in his body begging to not wake up from this dream.

“Come on.” Dean whispered against his lips. 

He took Sam’s hand and pulling him to his feet, guiding him through the house to the bedroom they’d shared for the past two nights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how sometimes you don't know how to make a story end?  
> That's what happened with this one.


	13. Wincest Love Week (Summer 2016) - Day 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prank Gone Wrong– Rating: “Explicit”

As a means to try and limit how much red meat Dean ate, Sam got him a veggie burger and fries for dinner one night. Sam admits he forgot to ask for extra onion –because he always forgot the onions- but it was the guy behind the counter who misheard and poured a diet coke.

Dean took to meal as an act of war.

 

To retaliate Dean took all of Sam’s dark clothes and washed them with entirely too much flower detergent. The wash cycle couldn’t get all of the detergent out so Sam’s clothes felt slick with dried soap and smelled stronger than a perfume department.

He hadn’t considered it would stink up the Impala, so it smelled like a whore house any time they stopped for longer than an hour. The summer heat baking the smell into the upholstery.

 

The next opportunity, Sam bought Dean’s type of deodorant and replaced it with cream cheese. It took only 20 minutes in the Midwest sun for Dean to realize something was amiss. The combination of his sweat and the dairy product had ruined his shirt, which he’d claimed to be his favorite but Sam called bullshit.

 

A few days happened between Dean’s retaliation.

Long enough for Sam to think Dean had conceded and he’d won. But as he sat on the patio of a small coffee shop, his dick growing hard as he absently watched Dean chew on a pen, he realized he’d fallen right into Dean’s retaliation.

Sam dropped the newspaper into his lap and hissed at his brother, “What did you do?”

Dean blinked a far too innocent look up at him, “What do you mean?”

“This isn’t funny Dean!” 

Dean’s mischievous smile made Sam want to punch him. “I wouldn’t say it’s pretty funny from where I’m sitting.”

Sam glared at him and grabbed another section of the newspaper and was determined to read about the Red Socks until his problem went away.

The entire sports section wasn’t a long enough read because he was still hard enough to pound nails by the time he got to the end.

“Why don’t you go take care of that?” Dean teased, “I’ll wait here for you and everything.”

Sam glared up at him, noticing the smallest crumb to the side of Dean’s lower lip. Sam’s dick gave an unhelpful lunge at the prospect of licking it off.

“You are so getting it.” Sam threatened as he folded the newspaper and used it the best he could to shield his completely inappropriate public boner as he stood, moving towards the bathroom.

“Take your best shot!” Dean called after him.

It was one of the few times Sam was grateful they lived on the road because he would die of embarrassment if he ever had to see that café owner in person again.

They’d left immediately for the motel room after Sam had “playing the stand-up organ” as Dean had taken to calling it.

 

Almost four hours later Sam had -not so stealthily- snuck off to try and relieve his problem three times now.

Time, orgasms, and a 45-minute cold shower had barely flagged his erection.

Never mind the pills made him feel like his heart was going to come out of his chest from how elevated his heart rate was.

Sam came out of the bathroom in a towel, no way to hide how hard he was.

Dean took one look at him and smirked, “Having a hard day Sammy?”

“Har har.” Sam answered digging through his flowery smelling laundry for boxers.

Dean watched him step into his clean clothes, “S’not so bad.” Dean said with a laugh. “Can use it to finally get laid.”

Sam tugged on his jeans, not buttoning them yet because his dick hurt. “I’m headed to the hospital because of your little stunt. This-” he gestured to his pelvis, “-will not go away.”

Dean gave another laugh and sat up, “No, no, come here.”

Sam felt his already frantically beating heart give a lurch.

He was already having a situation and if Dean thought he was going to get any closer he was dead wrong.

Dean dug a pill package from his bag and tossed it at Sam. “Take five and you’ll be fine.”

Sam scanned the box, “This is for allergies.”

“It’s a decongestant.” Dean nodded, “It’s what the hospital would give you.”

Sam flipped over the box and scanned the back.

“Shrinks blood cells. You need at least 5 pills for it to kick in. Over 150 milligrams.” Dean informed him.

Trust Dean to pull the medical knowledge out of his ass; Guess Dr. Sexy was rubbing off on him.

Sam mentally groaned, he didn’t need that mental image.

Sam sat on his bed and popped the tab of five pills and downed them with a swig of water.

“I hate you.” Sam informed him flopping onto his bed and throwing a forearm over his eyes.

“You’re probably just doing it wrong.” Dean answered.

“Jerking off wrong?” Sam huffed in disbelief, “Doubt it.”

The sudden thought of a perfect retaliation felt like relief to Sam’s overtaxed system. If Dean wanted Sam to be uncomfortable, two could play that game.

Sam lifted his hips and pushed his jeans down around his thighs, his dick bobbing obscenely as he shimmied them off. “Tell me what I’m doing wrong.” Sam said as he took his abused dick in hand.

“Sam-” Dean’s voice was thick as his protest died when Sam sighed as he gave his cock a dry tug.

Playing gay chicken with his brother wasn’t the worst thing he’d done by a long shot.

“Never had a problem before.” Sam continued as he heard Dean move around on his own bed.

The audience of one sent a thrill down Sam’s spine only to pool in his balls. He couldn’t tell if it was because it was Dean, or if it was because he was being watched.

The next time Sam was aware of Dean moving, he was starting to kneel on Sam’s bed, a half empty lube in his outstretched hand, “Can’t do it dry.” Was his husky instruction as he settled on his knees, his eyes glued to Sam’s hand around his dick.

Sam’s cock gave an appreciative jump at the attention.

All intention of this starting out as a prank long abandoned as Sam rolled his wrist and watched Dean swallow.

Dean uncapped the lube and took his lower lip between his teeth, settling a questioning glance at Sam. Sam didn’t know what he saw, but the next moment Dean was pouring the chilled lube over the head of Sam’s cock and down his fingers.

Letting out a hiss at the temperature, Sam quickly smeared the slicked across his oversensitive cock.

“You have to pay more attention to the shaft.” Dean urged.

Sam dropped his hand lower and gave an unimpressed hum, “S’not doing anything for me.” He quipped.

“Because you’re not doing it right.” Dean told him as he rested a warm hand on Sam’s hip.

“I’m not doing it wrong.” Sam huffed and resumed stroking the head of his dick.

“Use both hands.”

Sam frowned up at him, “How much effort do you put into this?”

Dean gave a frustrated huff and batted Sam’s hand away, taking Sam’s overly sensitive dick in his calloused hand.

He paused as if to process what he’d done, and Sam bit his lip and held perfectly still, prayed Dean wouldn’t chicken out now.

The first stroke forced the air from Sam’s lungs.

“Like this.” Dean lectured as if he jerked his brother off all the time. “You have to give this more attention.” He said as he dropped his other hand, palm open, to Sam’s trimmed pubes and massaging the base of Sam’s dick with his thumb and forefinger.

“Oh fuck.” Sam groaned rocking against the feeling.

“Told you.” Dean muttered as he quickened his pace.

Sam dug his fingers into the bedspread when Dean moved to straddle one of his legs, pushing his jean-covered knee against Sam’s balls for the added friction as Sam bucked up.

“That’s it,” Dean coaxed, “Come on Sammy.”

Sam couldn’t bite back the cry that tore from his throat as he came in Dean’s hand and across his own stomach.

Dean’s hand continued its steady pace on his length through the aftershock, his other hand rolling Sam’s now empty balls in his fingers.

“So fucking hot Sammy. Fucking amazing.” Dean praised.

When Dean’s hand finally stilled Sam arched up, dragging his balls across Dean’s jean covered thigh, uncaring of the desperate whine that accompanied his request, “Now you. Dean, please.”

Dean tore at his own zipper, palming his dick out of his briefs and working it over with the same precision/technique he’d used on Sam.

Not even four strokes later Dean groaned an “oh fuck” and added his own mess to Sam’s stomach.

On impulse, Sam sat up and pulled Dean into a wet kiss, both unconcerned with their labored breathing.

After a long minute, Dean pulled back and rested their foreheads together, panting against Sam’s lips.

Dean looked down at their laps and gave a sticky and teasing pet along Sam’s now flaccid dick, “Told ya you were doing it wrong.” He panted with a smirk.

Sam pushed against his forehead with an exasperated huff, “Next time, you’re the one taking the Viagra.”


	14. Wincest Love Week (Summer 2016) - Day 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let’s Go To The Movies – Rating: “General”

If there was a movie coming out that either of them wanted to see they made it a point to make time to see it in the theater.

They didn’t have space for DVDs, and Sam’s laptop could only hold so many James Bond movies. Their only options were to watch it in theaters or wait until they caught it on network television.

It took Dean two years to catch the Alien Raiders after he missed it the first time because of Hell.

Usually, when they picked a movie they went through the whole theatrical experience.

Picked a night in the middle of the week when there were least likely to be noisy teenagers taking up all the good seats.

They each got a popcorn, a pack of sour patch kids to share, and split a large coke cola.

More often than not Dean would drink the soda down enough to empty an entire flask of whiskey in there.

Then after the movie, they would go to a local restaurant and talk about it. Trading different things they’d liked, or found absolutely ridiculous.

Pacific Rim was still a tension between them because it was both the stupidest movie they’d ever seen, yet on their list of top favorite movies.

Sam dreaded Batman releases because Dean would wander around days after quoting it in answer to everything Sam asked him.

Dean hoped there was a special place in hell for the people who green lit the “based on a true story: serial killer movies” Sam was fascinated with.

 

They had downtime after their last hunt, so Sam was looking what was playing at the local theater.

“If you pick a chick movie I’ll see it under protest.” Dean threatened as he ran an oiled rag through the barrel of his shotgun.

“I'm not- Oh god,” Sam muttered from behind his computer.

Dean looked up at him, that tone never meant anything good.

“Oh god!” Sam repeated, the shock clear in his voice.

Dean was on his feet and moving across the room, “Sammy, what is it?”

The horrified look in Sam’s eyes when he looked up at Dean would haunt him, but not nearly as long as the words he spoke next.

“They made them into a movie!”

 

A studio known for pumping out B-List horror/thriller movies had bid for the rights to make the Supernatural books into a movie.

“ _Supernatural: The Yellow-Eyed Demon_ ” was only playing in select theaters.

They skipped their usual popcorn and sugary candy, both too stressed to even consider eating during the movie.

Dean couldn’t contain the bark of laughter the first time “Sam” came on screen. His hair was long enough to be in a ponytail, and for most of the movie it was.

Sam didn’t like the actor that played Dean, he was arrogant and cocky without the charm to smooth it over.

 

The studio had taken a lot of liberty with the story.

It was an exceptionally condensed retelling of their victory over Azazel.

It started with “Sam” narrating how he was on the road with his brother to hunt down a demon and destroy it.

Jessica’s death was told through oddly-timed-flashbacks throughout the movie and was over the top gory.

Making Azazel a hot chick was up there on the list of infractions. 

Made only more horrific by their Dad have a completely uncalled for sex scene with her that ended with her stabbing him to death.

It was enough to have the brothers fighting to not get up and walk out halfway through the movie.

And there was entirely too much touching between the brothers on screen.

Affectionate arms were thrown over shoulders, headlocks that ended with a kiss on the other’s forehead, the way they grabbed and held on to each other when they thought the other was injured.

The killing of Azazel was so quick and anticlimactic, one of those "blinked and missed it" type deaths.

The whole movie was so poorly paced and was left wide open for a sequel with “Sam” narrating the ending from the passenger seat of the car and his eyes flashing yellow before the camera followed the car down the horizon.

Instead of the easy conversation and dinner after a movie, they headed straight to the motel in silence.

 

Almost two hours later Dean finally asked, “It was shit, right?”

“Of course.” Sam easily agreed.

“I mean, we aren’t really like that?” He asked staring at the beer bottle in his hand.

Sam started to shake his head but stopped. “Kind of?”

At Dean’s wide-eyed, betrayed look Sam rushed to explain, “You shot down the idea of a threesome immediately instead of considering it like the movie did.”

Dean huffed and shook his head in disbelief. “Do you know how hot she would have to be?”

Sam raised an eyebrow, _or psychic_ he mused.

“Like a porn star hot.” Dean reiterated.

“Like the guy who played you.” Sam pointed out.

Dean choked on his beer, “That’s what he was from?!”

Sam ran a hand over his face, of course Dean watched the guy’s videos.

With a sigh Sam stood and started popping the button-snaps of his shirt, tossing it over his backpack.

Dean jumped to his feet, the chair he was sitting on skidding across the floor startling them both, “What are you doing?” He demanded.

Sam frowned at him, “Getting ready to go to sleep?”

“I’m right here!” Dean said throwing his arms out.

“When has that ever stopped us?” Sam argued, “Ever stopped you from prancing around here in your boxers?”

“I don’t prance.” Came Dean’s protested grumble.

“Whatever.” Sam said with an eye roll, “I take it you’re sleeping in your bed tonight?”

Dean pointed his beer bottle at Sam pointedly, “I didn’t say that, and don’t hog all the covers like you did last night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made it an "established relationship" (or a "they don't know just how close they _really _are") 'cause it was another one I didn't know how to end :/__
> 
>  
> 
> _  
> _Can't lie; I had a lot of fun making S1-2 a awful Hollywood horror movie._  
>  _


	15. Wincest Love Week (Summer 2016) - Day 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jealousy is a bad colour on you” - Rating: “Teen And Up Audiences”

Living in his brother’s back pocket, and vice versa, Sam felt had a high tolerance for how eccentric Dean could be.

The soap opera watching, flirting with every waitress that gave him the slightest curl of a smile, his inability to turn down a game of pool.

 

But Sam’s limits were tested the first time he found a “trophy” of Dean’s conquests in their laundry.

A pair of black lacy underwear was mixed in along with a load of Dean’s dark shirts.

Sam had to bite back the spike of rage that accompanied the find. He knew that Dean hooked up with countless chicks which was fine by Sam’s standards because he knew they didn’t mean anything to Dean.

But to find that Dean had kept a pair of their underwear to remember the night by- The hard plastic of the laundry basket cracked under the force of Sam’s grip.

With a snarl of his lip, Sam threw the underwear in the dryer and turned the heat on high, hoping the dryer would destroy the delicate lace.

 

The second time there were two of them. A pale pink satin, and another lacy thing -blue this time- mixed in with the socks. Dean had been a few machines over swapping a dry dark load for another so there wasn’t much Sam could do to retaliate other hope the dryer that was making the most noise ate one, or both of them.

 

They were like fucking rabbits, multiplying every time it was Sam’s turn to do laundry.

The last he counted there had been five.

Sam couldn’t even remember Dean staying out that many times to account for each pair. It made Sam doubt his initial assumption this was a recent habit Dean had picked up.

Dean’s duffle was only so big, and there was no way they were going to start keeping women’s underwear in the trunk of the Impala, so where was he planning to keep all of them?

 

After a day of watching Dean flirt with the motel owner’s daughter, all Sam could think about was the type of underwear Dean would get to add to his collection after he’d slept with her.

Sam watched their every interaction with a critical eye, trying to identify what was so special about them that Dean would feel the need to try to remember them.

Sam guessed it had to have something to do with how they were in bed.

It was the only thing Sam could think of that he couldn’t give Dean. Not because he wasn’t willing, but because he knew Dean never would be up for it.

If Dean had returned even a quarter of the feelings Sam had for him they would have fallen into bed years ago.

Sam didn’t have a doubt he’d be able to fulfill any of Dean’s needs if given the chance. But with Dean collecting keepsakes from these random women Sam knew that chance would never present itself.

 

It came to a head the next time they were sorting clothes to take to the laundromat.

Dean had been casually tossing the delicates in the growing pile of boxers and socks.

The fact he was unintentionally rubbing it in Sam’s face was enough to make Sam seethe in rage.

“Go yourself. I’m not washing your collection of other people’s underwear anymore.” Sam said dropping himself into the kitchenette chair and opening his laptop.

Dean paused in his organization of clothes into their laundry bag and stared at Sam with wide eyes, “My what?”

Sam clenched his teeth at Dean’s innocent act. “Your fuck-trophies,” He spat, “I’m not dealing with it.”

Dean blinked down at the lace that peaked out from under the pile, it took him a moment to continue adding clothes to the bag. “Sammy, are you jealous of all the action I’m getting?”

Sam forced himself to breathe through the barb. Dean could go on thinking Sam was jealous of the way he spread his legs for anyone, as long as he didn’t realize it was the women Sam was jealous of. They got to have Dean in ways Sam only ever fantasized about without truly knowing how fortunate they were to have him.

Dean left with a laundry bag over his shoulder and a mock-salute that Sam ignored in favor of the local online newspaper.

 

The underwear consumed Sam’s thought, as it always did when he left himself to dwell on it for too long. He couldn’t seem to focus on anything other than what Dean was probably remembering as he handled the delicate fabric.

Had the girl been a blond or redhead?

Was she curvy, her breasts too large to fit in the palm of Dean’s hand?

Did she make him come with a blow job or did he fuck her?

 

Sam was frustrated and long past hurt by the time Dean got back with their clothes. He wanted in the worst way to prove to Dean he could be just as good, if not better than any of those nameless women.

Dean greeted him by dropping a bag of local fast food on the table.

Sam sighed and opened the paper bag. It was a grilled chicken sandwich with everything on it, just the way Sam liked.

Sam watched Dean move around the hotel room, wondering what Dean thought he was apologizing for with the sandwich.

Dean crouched by his duffel to dig for his shower kit when Sam spotted a pair of familiar blue lace.

Before his brain could catch up to his mouth Sam blurted out, “Oh god they’re yours!”

Dean straightened his back, causing his jacket to relax and cover the spot of color peeking over his jeans. He looked over his shoulder at Sam with a rare blush over his cheeks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dean answered stiffly.

Sam was overjoyed they weren’t mementos from women Dean had slept with.

The case he’d found while Dean had been away was shoved to the back burner in his mind; if the underwear were Dean’s then Sam had to devise a plan how he was going to see Dean in every pair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I get a hankering for panty!kink writing I'm going to make this an actual fic.


	16. Wincest Love Week (Summer 2016) - Day 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camping During a Hunt – Rating: “General”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know when you do a thing and you're not happy with it but you don't know how to make it better?  
> Ta-da!

It wasn’t because he didn’t know how to put up a tent, or dig out a fire pit, or find the north by the way the moss grew on a tree. No, those things Dad drilled into their heads as part of their training.

He’d never been more thankful for the lessons than during his stay in Purgatory.

The only reason Dean put up the minimal protests for the lack of electricity and running water was because Sam seemed to enjoy the outdoors so much.

Dean suspected it might have something to do with the fact there weren’t expectations for Sam to do anything. There was only so much research you could do out of cell range and without a library.

They’d been steadily tracking a pack of Chupacabra through Colorado for the past two days.

The story of livestock mutilations hadn’t raised a lot of eyebrows because wolves were known to roam through the area, but the description of the “hairless wolf” was what brought them out.

Chupacabra weren’t known to be spotted so far north, preferring the hot climate to the four seasons states, but the mountain states were experiencing a hotter than normal summer and the creature monsters had taken up roaming a lot more because of it.

Dean had built a fire and Sam had left for 20 minutes and come back with a field dressed rabbit tied over a split.

He watched Sam set it up over the flame, wishing they’d brought some beer to complete the camping experience. But it would have been added weight in their packs and neither of them were willing to haul it through the mountains.

Instead, Dean watched the way the firelight dance across Sam’s face. Making his hazel eyes flicker between blue, and silver

Sam alternated between turning the rabbit so it wouldn’t burn and looking at the stars overhead.

They split the rabbit between them, and used wet wipes -Sam had the forethought to bring- to clean their fingers.

Sam laid back with a sigh, his head resting near Dean’s hip. “We should do this more often.”

Dean slapped another tickle of insect off his arm, “Get eaten alive by mosquitoes?”

Sam didn’t rise to Dean’s jab, “It’s nice out here. Can see the stars and everything.”

Dean finally shifted around to lie his head next to Sam’s, his brother’s long hair was cool against his ear.

They were silent for a long time, listening to sounds of the forest as the fire burned out.

A shooting star streaked across the sky and Dean heard Sam inhale in surprise. He was making a wish as he always did.

Dean closed his eyes and made the same wish he made every time; _I wish Sam would never leave like Mom did_.

“Hey Dean?” Sam asked turning his head, his hair brushing against Dean’s ear with the movement.

“Yeah Sammy?”

“What did you wish for?”

Dean entertained the notion of telling him but dismissed it almost as quickly. It would never change his mind if Sam really wanted to leave.

“Not telling you Bitch, it’s supposed to be a secret.”

Sam huffed and returned to looking up at the stars.

Dean wouldn’t tell him, but he would do everything he could to make sure Sam was happy and wanted to stay.

And if that included going camping outside of a hunt then he’d do it willing; he’d even try to keep the bitching to a minimum.


	17. Wincest Love Week (Summer 2016) - Day 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soulmates – Rating: “General”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could have been a couple more hundred words to catch up to S11 but there is a lot of _TV-drama_ /shit that I feel wouldn't have naturally happened between them after S5; so I stopped at S5.

Sam had always been his.

 

Dean hadn’t understood what that meant until the first time Sam came home from school and told him all about his friend David.

How amazing David was, how he had stories that were just as good as Dean’s.

How David would always get picked first for kickball at recess.

David was younger than Sam, but Dean wanted nothing more than to put him in a headlock and make him swear to never talk to his Sammy again.

But David made Sam happy when he was at school, when Dean couldn’t be with him, so he left him alone.

He was never more grateful than the day Dad came home and announced they were moving.

Sam was upset, but Dean gave him his Walkman to listen to the whole ride there and then went for two scoops of ice cream once they got settled.

 

Another time Dean felt like staking a claim was when Sam blindsided him during a hunt with Dad.

Sammy wanted to know how to talk to girls.

Too far away to do anything about it, Dean answered honestly.

Say something nice about her, and listen to what she had to say. Girls were easy to talk to, you just had to be nice and smile a lot.

After hanging up it was all Dean could think about for the rest of the hunt.

Sammy running away with the girl of his dreams. She was obviously smart because Sammy met her in a library. It was the only place Sam had been for the last two days.

Dean wondered what their children would look like.

Wondered if he could look past the fact a little tart has stolen his baby brother right out from under him and be able to treat her like a sister?

Dad had been frustrated by the trail gone cold, driving through the night to get them back to the motel Sam was at.

By the time they got there Sam had been asleep for hours.

Dean got off his boots and jacket and collapsed into bed on the other side of Sam. He feel asleep to Sam’s soft snores, reassured Sammy hadn’t gone anywhere.

Sam never mentioned anything about the girl, and Dean forgot to ask what her name was.

 

With Sam riding passenger in the Impala, Dean liked to pretend Sam never left for Stanford.

That he’d never experienced the feeling of his heart being ripped out of his chest.

That all the years he’d struggled with being a functioning alcoholic, nothing had ever come close to the first few weeks after Sam had left.

Dean still can’t remember the first 8 days after Sam disappeared down that streetlight lit road he’d been so lost in a drunken haze.

The first thing he’d remembered clearly after Sam left was Dad slapping him awake, yelling his name with more fear in his voice than Dean had ever heard.

Dad had found him passed out on the floor and covered in vomit.

He remembers Dad stripping him of his soiled clothes and helping him under a hot shower spray until he was more or less clean. He remembers being wrapped in two of the motel blankets and Dad holding him against his chest, tucked under his chin like a little kid.

Dean also remembers crying a lot that night.

But with Sam humming along with the radio in the passenger seat, Dean liked to pretend none of that happened.

 

All the crap they’d been through at Hell’s planning and Heaven’s meddling Dean could admit there were times he wanted to wring Sam’s neck.

For not listening, for not staying on -what Dean could see was the obviously- right path, for not trusting his brother above all else.

But Sam was still his, through the good and the bad. And Dean still loved him.

It all snapped into place when Ash told them they were soulmates.

Dean felt his phantom heart give a lurch of unbridled joy because someone had finally put it into words.

 _Soulmates_.

They were made for each other. Meant to be together.

No matter what anyone else claimed, or how far Sam ran, he would always have a place at Dean’s side.

 

And in Dean’s book that made Sam his, and his alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't write Stanford stuff because 1) it's over done and 2) I feel like Dean took it as the _worst_ break-up imaginable. In my mind, he either shut down completely and turned into John's mindless perfect little soldier, OR he was so far gone in his pain and misplaced guilt he tried to (intentionally/unintentionally) kill himself.


	18. "I love you. I love you both."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary's POV on her decision to leave the bunker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12.03 - The Foundry (coda)  
> I know, I'm a horrible person.

Mary was silent in the backseat for the ride back to the bunker. 

Lucas had been twice as old as her little Dean. 

She wondered what Dean's bowl cut hair would have looked like at 7. If he would have finally allowed them to trim his hair away from his eyes, or if haircuts would always be a battle. 

It hurt to think she would never know. 

She absently rubbed at the frostbitten hand print on her forearm, the occasional streetlight flashing overhead illuminated the reds and blues of the dark mark.

She wondered if the mark would scar badly. A reminder of the children who had been taken from this world far too soon. 

The only thing she had to remember her babies with were her memories, some faded pictures, and her quickly dehydrating milk glands. 

Mary had only noticed Sammy's fourth tooth starting to come in their last night together because he'd unintentionally bit her.

With her eyes trained on the moving scenery, Mary watched a dimly lit baseball diamond zipped past. The painful longing for John overshadowed the pain of her arm. 

She would never again get to see the smile that lit up John's face after a win. She would never again hear his laugh from across the Team's BBQ party as he talked with his teammates and Mary talked with the wives.

Mary wondered if John had thrown a baseball around with Dean as he grew up.

It seemed his mission in life was to play ball with his son. It was all he'd talked about since they first found out they were having a boy.

Blinking back tears, Mary refrained from sniffing so the men - _her boys_ she reminded herself - in the front seat wouldn't hear her crying.

John had always hated it when she cried. 

He once threatened never to buy her flowers again because she had teared up at how beautiful her Birthday bouquet had been last year.

 _No, not last year_ she thought as she bit hard into her lower lip to keep from sobbing, _a lifetime ago_.

A lifetime that had made her babies grow up as hunters.

Her sweet and loving little Dean had become calloused and overbearing. He was quick to find the worst in people and drank far too much. 

Before she went through John's Journal- Dear God, John's _Hunting_ Journal - Mary wanted to ask if Castiel had been Dean's guardian angel since her death. 

It was one of her final prayers as she knew Dean would need one after seeing him framed in the nursery doorway as the flames engulfed her.

But there hadn't been any mention of Angels until an unfamiliar sharp handwriting first notated "Angels" and the words "are unkillable" crossed out followed by a crude drawing of what she assumed was supposed to be an Angel blade.

And Mary missed her happy, smiley baby Sammy. Her second born had become this mountain-of-a-man who rarely smiled, and when he did it never reached his eyes. 

Mary could see the horrors he had witnessed with those bright eyes. His eyes held pain that wasn't dissimilar to the WWII soldiers that would visit her part-time library job. The ones that would flinch when a group of kids would disturb the quiet of the library with a bark of laughter, or a loud unchecked joke at each other. 

Mary still couldn't believe Sam had got out and _come back_.

Her whole life she'd only ever heard of a small handful of hunters leave the life. And for every one of them, it had been for good. 

They'd gone on to raise families and grow old. The biggest gathering of hunters Mary had ever seen, had been for a man in Nebraska over who died of natural causes at the age of 93. Hunters had come from far and wide to hear the stories of both the man's hunting and civilian life. 

The concept was more unbelievable than Big Foot.

She heard the word "Blessed" mentioned a lot at the old hunter's wake, and Mary had thought she too had found it the day Sammy was born.

She had two beautiful, healthy boys and John was already joking about wanting another so they could have the big family neither of them had growing up. 

But now they were all gone. 

They were lost to her forever, and Mary didn't know how to go on without them.

The voice in the back of her head taunted that even killing herself wouldn't reunite them because her family wasn't dead. Their lives simply ceased to overlap.

Mary didn't think God's sister understood what she had taken away by bringing her back. Being forced to live this was so much worse than if she had stayed dead. 

Dean turned down the hidden driveway to the bunker and Mary quickly rewrapped the bandage over her forearm. 

She still didn't know how to explain to them she needed to mourn her family without it sounding like she was abandoning them. 

She doubted neither of the hunters would take the news well.


	19. Wincest Love Week (Fall 2016) - Day 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pumpkin Spice - Rating: G

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to my Anon, [delicatesammy](http://delicatesammy.tumblr.com/):  
>  _Well, we're off to a great start already!! - I read the prompt wrong and was like "Pumpkin Spice Latte... I can do that." ¬_¬_  
>  Pumpkin Spice - Rating: G

"This shit is awful." Dean declared after his first sip.

Sam took a sip of his own coffee stand's "Seasonal Drink" and let it sit on his tongue for a moment. "I don't think it's that bad." He conceded after he swallowed.

They were standing just on the edge of the parking lot where the coffee stand was. A few college students stood in line as the two baristas in the stand filled orders.

Dean leveled his brother with an unimpressed look. "Sammy, it tastes like someone dropped in a pound of cinnamon in luke-warm water and shoved the mess in a microwave. It's not even completely dissolved yet."  
He had ripped the lid off as soon as it crossed the counter muttering, "No manly way to drink out of a straw" and had tossed the thin coffee straws into the garbage. Now he sniffed at the contents of the coffee cup before shaking his head in disgust.

Sam took another sip of his drink and shrugged. "If I get it again I might had a couple more shots of espresso."

"I don't even think there is coffee in mine," Dean said taking another tentative sip. He made a disgusted face and offered it to Sam, "Try it."

Sam frowned at him, "You just said it was awful, I'm not going to try it."

"Come on, try it. If you think this tastes good, then we know for once and for all how fucked up your taste buds are." Dean jabbed.

With a glare, Sam snatched the cup from Dean's hand and took a large sip, immediately spitting it back out onto the ground, "What _is that_?" He said holding it out for Dean to take. He chased the taste away with a sip from his own cup.

The rich and creamy flavors chased away the swill that Dean had been given.

"See!" Dean said taking his cup back.

"Here." Sam said offering Dean his own cup, "Get rid of that taste."

"I'm not drinking yours." He argued.

"Mine doesn't taste like a gym sock from the North Pole." Sam shot back.

From across the parking lot, their barista came out the side door and quickly walked towards them.

She had an apologetic look on her face and a large cup in her hand.

"I'm so sorry," she greeted them, "We gave you the wrong cup."

Dean exchanged the cup in his hand for the one in her outstretched hand. "Who orders whatever that is." He said gesturing towards the tan liquid.

She ducked her head in embarrassment, "Well, no one orders it." At their blank stares, she continued, "It's the cup we use to keep the measuring spoons. It got filled with water and had a decent amount of spice in it."

"Cinnamon," Dean said smugly looking at Sam.

She nodded and started back towards the coffee stand, "Sorry again." She called over her shoulder.

There was a breadcrumb trail of coffee from where they stood back to the coffee stand as the barista poured the mess out slowly on her walk back.

In Dean fashion, he took off the lid of the new cup and held the thin straws out of the way so he could take a sip.

Sam watched as Dean's eyes light up from his first taste.

"Well?" Sam asked unable to hide his amused smile.

Dean gave a forced casual shrug, "Yeah, it's not that bad."

\- - - 

Sam didn't say anything when Dean brought all the spices back to the bunker so he could add -from scratch- the Pumpkin Spice to their already whiskey-spiked coffee in the morning.


	20. Wincest Love Week (Fall 2016) - Day 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fucking a Pumpkin - Rating: Explicit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to my Anon, [delicatesammy](http://delicatesammy.tumblr.com/): _After the posting issues of yesterday-turned-today, I felt you could use a little porn to brighten the mood._ ^_^  
>  *Spoiler Alert*: Sam is the Pumpkin

Dean was frowning at Sam's laptop when Sam wandered into the library.

"Find a case?" Sam asked sitting across from him.

Dean turned his head up without taking his eyes off the screen; they sat there for a long moment in silence before Dean tore his eyes away from the computer, turning his confused look at Sam, "Why would someone want to fuck a vegetable?"

"Dean-" Sam huffed a sharp sigh, "You got your own computer so you'd stop watching porn on mine."

"But yours is faster." Came Dean's distracted answer as he turned back to the screen.

Sam pursed his lips and watched the array of confused expressions pass over Dean's face.

When Dean took his plump lip between his teeth, Sam's curiosity had peaked, and he got up to look over Dean's shoulder.

 

It was a professionally made video, switching between several camera angles as a reasonably built man was thrusting into a pumpkin. The hole cut just wide enough to surround his condom encased dick.

It was at odds with the nicely furbished kitchen he was doing the act in.

Sam frowned at the exaggerated show of pleasure that crossed the man's face. The obvious fakeness of porn would probably always fail to turn Sam on.

"Why are you watching this?"

"Because it came up in the 'Recommended For You' sections." Was Dean's distracted answer.

Sam paused at that. He's seen the list of video recommendations for Dean. They were mostly 'Big Tit' and 'Hentai'.

"Do you always watch everything in the 'Recommended For You' section?" Sam asked hesitantly.

Dean bobbed his head, "When it's titled "Hunk plows tight hole" yeah."

Sam couldn't keep in his bark of laughter. "You're saying you'd fuck a pumpkin if it were tight enough?"

Dean caught on to his teasing, and huffed his own small laugh, "Of course. It's like the perfect partner; firm, yet just round enough to hold onto."

The commentary had Sam laughing, and he added, "You have to work to get into the slopping, wet hole."

Dean closed the lid of the laptop and grinned up at him. "Of course I'd fuck a pumpkin."

\- - - -

Sam kept the smile off his face as he heard Dean shuffle down the hallway towards the kitchen.

The little bottle he'd bought last week sat on the edge of the table, in plain sight so Dean couldn't miss it.

Without looking up from his tablet, Sam heard Dean stop in the doorway.

Dean's confusion was almost tangible in the air.

"What are you wearing?" Came Dean's sleep rough question.

Sam glanced down at orange plaid shirt before made sure the green leaves of his mostly orange crochet beanie stayed in place as he looked up at his brother.

"It's festive." He answered going for nonchalant.

Dean came further into the kitchen, "Since when do you care to do anything festive?" He asked grabbing Sam's coffee and taking a sip.

Sam watched him grimace around the sweet taste before taking another longer sip. Apparently, he deemed this situation unacceptable without caffeine.

"Thought I'd try things a little different this year," Sam said raising a challenging eyebrow.

Dean grabbed the squeeze bottle Sam had set out for him, reading the label. "And this?"

"Part of my costume," Sam answered, the smallest smile curling his lips.

"Salted Caramel lube?"

Sam watched as the question formed in Dean's mind, but his dick must have gotten through his sleep-muddled mind because his mouth fell open and his eyes snapped back to the hat sitting on Sam's head.

"You're so fucking kinky," Dean growled as he put Sam's coffee cup on the table and grabbing his brother by the back of the head and pulling him in for a demanding kiss.

Sam moaned against his lips as Dean used Sam's hair to guide him out of his seat, and across the kitchen until his back met the edge of the kitchen counter.

"Up," Dean growled into the kiss, and Sam leveraged himself to sit on the counter, leaning down to keep their lips and tongues pressed together.

Dean splayed a hand across Sam's chest, forcing him to keep his distance while Dean pulled away. "Don't know what I did to deserve you," Dean muttered as he trailed a hand up to Sam's throat, and ran a tender thumb along his brother's jaw before starting to work open the snaps of Sam's shirt.

Knowing he wouldn't be keeping the shit on for long, Sam had forgone the undershirt which earned him a hum of approval from Dean and those talented fingers plucking at Sam's nipples as soon as the material fell away.

Sam shrugged his shirt off and dropped it carelessly to the floor before Dean's mouth was back on him. This time latching onto his neck while he drug his fingernail across Sam's pebbled nipples.

Sam had a fleeting thought he hoped Castiel didn't walk in on them because they weren't going to stop just because they suddenly had an audience.

"Lie back." Dean breathed against his neck, following the command with a nip to Sam's collarbone.

Sam complied, hissing as his back came in contact with the cold surface of the counter.

Dean loomed over him, a warm hand slowly dragging down Sam's chest as Dean drank in Sam splayed out before him.

"So pretty, Sammy," Dean muttered tracing Sam’s happy trail to the fly of his jeans.

Pressing a hand over Sam's visible erection through the denim, Dean kneaded his hard length, a self-satisfying smile curling his lips as Sam bucked into his hand. "Beautiful." He cooed. "And so needy."

With his free hand, Dean popped the button of Sam's jeans and peeled them down just enough to expose the base of his hard length.

Dean's darkly amused gaze met Sam's and held it as he dipped his head down and mouthed along the base of Sam's dick.

Sam sat up on his elbows to get a better view of Dean's lips planting kisses and sucking at him in equal parts.

Tugging at Sam's jeans, Dean forced them over the curve of Sam's ass, causing Sam's dick to spring out of his jeans and slap against his stomach.

"Commando and everything huh baby brother?" Dean growled dropping another kiss to the base of Sam's dick.

"Always ready for action." Sam panted with a laugh.

Dean huffed fondly before circling the head of Sam's dick with his fingers and sealing his lips over the tip. His tongue dancing along the slit and sensitive head as he French Kissed his brother's cock.

Sam couldn't stop the whine that started deep in his chest at the sweet torture.

Pressing a hand flat against Sam's chest, Dean coaxed Sam to lie back down before giving Sam's dick another teasing kiss before pulling away.

Dean reached for the lube and patted Sam's thigh, signaling him to open his legs further.

Sam did one better and drew his knees up to his chest, holding himself open as Dean slicked his fingers with the lube.

"Such a needy, gorgeous mess you are baby brother." Dean cooed as he rubbed two slick fingers against Sam's hole.

"Dean, stop teasing," Sam demanded, the threat in his voice chased away by the desperation.

Dean hummed and worked two fingers into Sam's ass, a steady press in until Dean's knuckles kissed Sam's rim.

"Me?" Dean cooed, "I would never."

Unable to stay silent, Sam moaned as Dean worked his fingers in and out of his ass.

Through his own moans and whimpers at the feeling of Dean twisting his fingers in his ass, Sam heard his brother ask, "You want more Beautiful?"

"Yes," Sam moaned as Dean brushed hard at his prostate, causing his breath to hiccup, "Yes, please Dean yes."

"Okay, okay." Dean soothed, cupping and petting at Sam's heavy balls as he withdrew his fingers only to add a third and wiggle them back in.

Sam heard the cap of the lube flick open then Dean's sharp intake of breath as he probably squeezed out cold lube directly onto his dick.

Before Sam could ask, Dean removed his fingers and his hands -one slick with lube- settled on the back of Sam's knees and pushed him further open.

The tip of Dean's dick kissed Sam's rim as Dean settled between his open legs.

"Still ready for action?" Dean teased rubbing his wet and leaking dickhead across Sam's entrance.

"It's a good start to working into a slopping, wet hole." Sam breathlessly joked.

Dean's huffed laugh was full love and adoration.

His humored smile stayed on his lips as he snapped his hips forward, burying his dick in Sam's tight ass.

Sam threw his head back as the sudden motion, a moan trapped in his throat.

The stretch raced through him, warming him to the core.

"Feel so good, Beautiful," Dean praised.

When Sam looked back up, Dean was watching him with that small curve of his lip, "You still with me Sammy?"

Nodding, Sam dropped a hand to his own dick and gave it a few lazy strokes, unsurprised to find pre-come puddled on his stomach.

Dean rocked his hips, causing Sam's eyes to flutter closed for a moment before they focused on Dean's face again. "Wanna hear you." He encouraged.

"Feel so full Dean," Sam moaned, "Want to feel you move."

"You will Beautiful, you will," Dean assured him as he shifted Sam's leg around his hip and pressed his lube covered fingers to Sam's mouth.

He always offered Sam the chance to refuse, but even after all these years, he still hadn't learned Sam wouldn't tell him 'No'.

As he took Dean's fingers into his mouth, the flavor of salted caramel exploded over his tongue causing him to suck hard at Dean's fingers.

Dean groaned as he started a steady rhythm of his hips, dragging across Sam's prostate with every thrust.

There was no need to rush because they were both already so close. So high off each other.

"You gonna come for me baby?" Dean panted.

Sam moaned around Dean's fingers and nodded. His hand lazily pulling at his dick speed up.

"So fucking hot, Beautiful." Dean moaned driving his thrusts harder.

Sam came with a high moan as he arched against the counter. Dean's dick nailing his prostate as his release washed over him, forcing out ropes of come across Sam's chest and stomach.

"Fuck baby." Dean growled, his own release warm as he pulsed inside Sam's ass.

They lied there panting for a while, Dean shifting so they could lazily make out until he went soft inside Sam.

Dean pulled back licking his lips, no doubt chasing the taste of the flavored lube, "Sammy." He started using is matter-of-fact tone, "no one who's ever said they'd fuck a pumpkin, actually goes through with it."

Sam grinned up at him, all fucked out and self-satisfied, mischief etched into his dimples, "Just didn't want you to be considered a liar."


	21. Wincest Love Week (Fall 2016) - Day 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note to my Anon, [delicatesammy](http://delicatesammy.tumblr.com/): _I do have a headcanon about how well Sam can cook. I’m glad I’m able to share._ ^_^  
> Sam bakes Dean a fresh apple pie – Rated: G

“Well, it's good to know the smoke detectors still work,” Sam muttered to himself as he flapped the oven mitt at the tiny blaring alarm.

His first attempt at making a pie wasn’t going like he thought it would. 

Instead of the flaky light brown of a perfect pie, he’d opened the oven to a billow of black smoke and the sweet smell of sugar burning. With a curse, he’d snatched the black mass out of the oven and set it on top of the stove. 

He only had time to heave one disappointed sigh before the smoke alarm started blaring. 

The charcoal brick with a thick, gooey apple center mocked him as the smoke detector continued to make his ears ring. 

“Well, it's good to know the smoke detectors still work,” Dean said as he bounced down the couple steps into the kitchen. 

“Har, har,” Sam called over his shoulder. 

“Sammy,” Dean called in a tone that drew his attention immediately. Dean flipped a switch that sat just to the right of the stove and the blaring alarm stopped. 

Sam dropped his shoulders with a sigh as his ears continued to ring for a long moment. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Dean shrugged as he grabbed a fork and started poking at Sam’s pie. “The Men of Letters reference the kitchen switch a couple of times. Usually, when the alarm goes off because something exploded and someone was dead.” Dean gestured at the oven, “You know, in addition to the smoke.”

“Great,” Sam muttered, the explanation making him feel worse.

His first attempt at making Dean a pie was a complete disaster. 

“This is the saddest meatloaf I’ve ever seen,” Dean said trying to fork his way through the tough crust of the pie. 

Sam huffed a frustrated sigh, “It’s supposed to be an apple pie.” 

The horrified look on Dean’s face would have been funny in any other context.

“You’re banned from being alone in here,” Dean announced turning back to poke at the ruined pie. 

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother’s childishness. It wasn’t that bad.

“Did you use all of the apples?” Dean asked as he used his fork to separate the black pie crust from the glass pie dish. 

Shaking his head, Sam answered, “No. I still have about a dozen left over.”

Dean cut the blackened pie in half and popped –what was probably only decent looking- apple slice into his mouth. Sam watched with a pinched expression as Dean thoughtfully sucked on the fruit. 

“Still have flour?” Dean asked as he tongued the fruit. 

“Yeah.”

“Sugar?”

“Got that too.” Sam drawled as he watched Dean scrape the burnt attempt of a pie into the garbage. 

“Butter?”

“Yes.” 

“And I know there is no way you used all the cinnamon or nutmeg,” Dean said as he turned on the sink and scrubbed at the dish. 

“No.” Sam agreed before he realized Dean couldn’t hear him over the running water.

Dean seemed to have heard him because he turned and gestured towards the dish Sam had used to mix the pie filling, “Start mixing another batch of that filling.” 

Sam ducked his head to hide his pleasure. It seemed silly that Dean helping him make a pie warmed Sam's heart this much, but it just showed that even after all these years his big brother still wouldn't let him fail. 

“Dude! How high did you have the oven set to!?”

\- - -

The pie they ended up making together was only a little darker golden than Sam anticipated, but it tasted amazing.


	22. Wincest Love Week (Fall 2016) - Day 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note to my Anon, [delicatesammy](http://delicatesammy.tumblr.com/): _M'sorry!! I know I'm behind!!_  
>  Looking up weird holiday porn together – Rating: Explicit

"Hey Sammy?" Dean asked as he pushed open Sam's bedroom door.

Sam sat on his bed, his back against the headboard. He was wearing the stupidest red Christmas sweater Dean had been able to find last season.

"You cold or something?" Dean asked as he helped himself to the other side of Sam's unoccupied bed, snagging the remote before settling next to his brother.

Sam made a half-hearted attempt to grab the remote before huffing and settling down, his shoulder against Dean's. From this angle, Dean would have a harder time seeing his face once he realized what Sam had been watching.

The sound of the whipped cream can in the video was loud in the mostly quiet room.

"Huh.” Came Dean’s flat response.

The blond on screen had covered the brunette’s nipple with the white cream and immediately ducked her head to started licking it off.

They didn’t glance at the camera once, which was why Sam liked the videos by this porn company. He’d yet to find a video where either or both parties were faking how much they enjoyed their partner.

The whipped cream disappeared from her skin in short order, and another dollop of the dessert was spread over her collarbone.

‘’What are we watching?”

Sam didn’t look over from where he was tucked against Dean’s side. “I was watching a porn parody to some show about competitive baking.”

“Huh.” Dean hummed again.

They both watched for a few long moments, pressed side by side before Sam broke the silence, “I was going to…”

Dean nodded and gestured to his crotch, “Go for it.”

Sam unzipped his pants and shoved a hand down the front of his jeans, squeezing at the base of his dick before palming his hardening length.

Something about Dean being next to him had him hardening faster than the last 10 minutes of this video.

“Hey, when this one is over, I’ve got another one we can watch.” Dean said getting comfortable.

\- - -

Sam spent the duration of his movie teasing the leaking head of his dick, running his finger along the sensitive underside, drawing more precome out.

Dean had started palming his cock through his jean, but -as Sam had grown to understand over the years- he wasn't turned on enough to pull it out.

That changed when Dean put on his porn video.

Sam had laughed really hard when Dean tossed him the DVD case because _seriously?!_

A mountain of a man dressed in a Santa Claus suit went to various houses "delivering gifts, and good cheer."

Everyone that he fucked had been willing and eager (which was what had worried Sam when he read the back of the DVD case), and surprisingly genuine in their acting.

The Santa had fucked guys and girls alike.

His declaration if they were on the naughty or nice list was the indicator if he let them come or not while he was fucking them.

Dean had pulled his dick out just before Santa had bent a good looking guy over his knee and spanked his ass red.

Sam wanted to ask how many times Dean had watched this particular video that this was his favorite part, but the sounds the guy let out as Santa fingered his ass between spankings snapped Sam's attention back to the video.

He suddenly didn't need to ask anymore.

After the onscreen Santa was balls deep in the guy, Dean turned and nosed at Sam's ear, "You sound just like that when I fuck you, Sammy."

Sam's dick gave a lurch, and he felt his face heat up, "Really?"

Dean released his own cock and reached across Sam's lap to take Sam's cockhead in two fingers and tease the leaking slit.

Sam whimpered and forced his hand to his side in surrender to Dean's sweet torture.

"Yeah," Dean sighed dropping a kiss to Sam's neck, "you make these little punch drunk sounds that get louder the harder I fuck you."

Dean jerked Sam's hard dick through the tight fist of his hand, and Sam couldn't keep in his appreciative moan. He felt Dean smile against his skin, "It's adorable."

The onscreen Santa was easing his dick into the guy's ass, tortuously slow just to make the guy whine and beg for more.

"Love when you do that for me, Sammy," Dean whispered sucking at his pulse point while he fisted Sam's dick slow and tight enough to make Sam's toes curl. "Love it when you beg and tell me exactly what you want me to do to you."

Sam moaned his brother's name and turning into his face into Dean's shoulder.

"Ah ah," Dean tisked as he switched hands, starting to stroke Sam with his left hand while his right tangled in the back of Sam's hair and pulled his head away from Dean's arm. "Wanna hear you." He whispered and returned to sucking on Sam's, now exposed, neck.

Dean had a habit of taking sex maddeningly slow.

He liked to do everything in slow turn: Make-out for a while before touching, then after some heavy petting, move on to kissing all of the exposed skin trying to catalog what sound each spot could draw out.

Then, if Sam hadn't come from Dean's slow but determined ministrations, he would spend a lifetime with a bottle of lube and talented fingers slowly working open Sam's hole.

The only difference today was the background noise of porn.

Dean had worked around Sam’s ugly sweater. Moving it this way to that to get at Sam’s skin, but always tugging it back in place when he moved on.

The first brush of Dean’s dick against his ass had him moaning and trying to pull Dean closer with his legs wrapped around Dean’s hips.

“So impatient.” Dean chastised, turning Sam’s answer into a long moan as Dean worked his cockhead past the tight ring of muscle.

The pleasant burn of the stretch raced up Sam’s spine as he fought not to come as Dean finally pushing inside him. Sam couldn’t imagine what it would do to Dean’s ego if Sam came with just one thrust.

The moans from the TV spurred both them on. Sam reaching for Dean’s shoulder to brace himself just before Dean gave a few slow, shallow thrusts.

“Dean please,” Sam whined

“Please, what little brother?” Dean asked stopping his hips again.

Sam moaned at the pet name and wiggled his hips, “Dean please just fuck me.”

A satisfied smile curled Dean’s lips as he started a fast rhythm, “So impatient.”

Heat pooled in Sam’s belly far faster than he thought possibly, Dean’s name falling from his mouth in a broken chant.

Dean leaned forward and dropped a kiss to Sam’s lips, his weight forcing Sam’s already throbbing dick between Dean’s stomach and the material of Sam’s sweater.

“You gonna come for me, Sammy?”

Sam moaned as Dean followed his question up several sharp thrusts, aimed perfectly to abuse his prostate.

“Yes!” Sam arched into the feeling, with a loud moan, “Yes, please Dean yes!”

Dean’s hand circled Sam’s hard cock, and with four hard thrusts, he came with Dean’s name on his tongue.

When the sparks behind his eyes faded, Dean was still slowly fucking him.

Sam’s ass was sloppy from Dean’s release, but he was enjoying the post orgasm torture too much to tell Dean to stop.

Their attention was brought back to the porn still playing when someone asked, “Oh Santa, is that’s package for me?”

Dean grinned down at him, and Sam huffed a reluctant laugh.

\- - -

The next round Dean succeeded -once again- in making Sam moan louder than the porn star.


	23. Wincest Love Week (Fall 2016) - Day 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note to my Anon, [delicatesammy](http://delicatesammy.tumblr.com/): _I wanted something tooth-rotting fluff sweet and I think I got close?_  
>  Hot chocolate + snuggles - Rating: G

Dean refused to tell him where they were going. 

They'd been driving for 45 minutes, one of the Blue Oyster Cult tapes –the one that got Sam into the music he likes- was playing quietly as they drove through the dark. 

They zipped past a sign that said 84 miles to the next gas station. 

Sam had learned not to question his brother, but this was a little out of character, even for Dean.

Dean dropped an arm across the bench seat, his fingers scratching along the base of Sam's skull. The edges of Sam's mind went a little fuzzy under Dean's petting. 

Instead of answering, Dean asked, "That the only jacket you have?" 

Picking at his flannel shirt, Sam shook his head, "No, I've got the Carhartt in the trunk if you didn't take it out last time you cleaned." 

"Good," Dean said, flipping on the blinker and pulling off the highway.

"Dean, where are we going?"

"We're almost there."

Sam sighed. At least it wasn't "You'll find out Sammy" this time. 

It was another 15 minutes before the Impala was eased off the side road and onto a wide part of the shoulder. Dean shut the engine off and grinned at his brother. "We're here." 

Sam glanced out the passenger window to the dark empty that was the field they were next to. "And here is...?"

Dean leaned over the back seat and dug around in the cooler, pulling out a thermos. 

"Come on Sammy," Dean said as he opened his door and walked to the back of the car. 

Instinctively he knew that Dean wouldn't have driven him this far without telling him this was a hunt. That was just stupid, not to mention dangerous.

Once out of the car, Sam immediately pulled his jacket closer around him, "It's fucking freezing out here." 

Offering him the Carhartt from the trunk, Dean bobbed his head and held up the thermos. "That's why I've brought provisions."

Sam huffed an affectionate sigh and shrugged on the Carhartt jacket as Dean brushed past him, leaning in and dropping a quick kiss to Sam's lips before continuing to the front of the car.

Sitting gently on the hood of the car, Dean unscrewed the lid to the thermos and poured a hot cup of liquid, offering it to Sam. 

"What did you spike it with?" Sam hesitantly asked, taking the cup. 

Dean raised an eyebrow, "If you drink it, then you'll find out."

Bracing himself, Sam took a sip. It was still too hot when the liquid hit his tongue, but it was creamy and chocolaty.

It tasted just like their childhood. Dean was boiling their almost spoiled milk on the old stove top range while Sam stood on a chair, helping add the cocoa mix every time Dean said so. 

“You made hot coco?” Sam asked, smiling at his brother. 

Dean grinned at him from the hood of the Impala, "Of course. You want snow don’t you?" He teased.

“Of course.” Sam echoed.

“Good.” Dean declared, lifting his arm in an invitation for Sam to sit beside him. 

With an affectionate smile, and warmth in his chest that made him feel like a little kid again, Sam sat next to his brother on the hood of the Impala.

Sitting side-by-side looking up at the stars, they sharing the thermos of hot chocolate until it was empty. 

\- - -

They sat there about 20 minutes before Dean announced, “It's fucking freezing out here” and they relocated to the inside of the Impala. 

In between watching the stars through the windshield, they made out; Dean’s kisses tasted like hot chocolate and home. 

Sam suggested they sleep in the car because it was too late to drive all the way back home. Dean didn’t protest nearly as much as Sam thought he would. 

Curling together in the back seat, one of their emergency blankets wrapped around them, Sam snuggled against Dean’s chest. His brother’s hand was lazily running up and down his back. 

He was almost asleep when Dean dropped a kiss to his forehead, and breathed, “Love you Sammy” into his hair.

Sam shifted on Dean’s chest and gave a little moan in response. Sleep pulled him under before he could properly respond.


	24. Wincest Love Week (Fall 2016) - Day 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note to my Anon, [delicatesammy](http://delicatesammy.tumblr.com/): _Not gonna lie, I struggled with this one. It didn't fluff/cute as much as I wanted it to, but there is mild sex. (Well, mild by my standards...)_  
>  "It’s so cold we should have sex to stay warm" - Rating: Explicit

They'd had sex earlier in the day and were now snuggling together on Sam's bed watching TV. 

Sam now had a memory foam mattress to call his own because Dean was in Sam's room often enough he'd nagged Sam into breaking down and buying one. Sam didn't want to admit it, but he shouldn't have put up such a big fight for so long.

They were finally caught up on The Walking Dead and could watch it live, the night it aired. 

"Still think he looks like Dad," Sam said as the show ended.

Dean gave a shrug, "Yeah, if Dad had been a little more unhinged."

"I meant looks, but- this makes me glad we talked Dad out of naming that shotgun he got after the Impala was robbed.” Sam mused. 

To that, Dean could agree.

"You want another?" Dean asked, waving his empty beer bottle at Sam.

"Naw, I'm good," Sam answered offering Dean the collection of empty beer bottles from his side of the bed. 

Taking the bottles, Dean disappeared down the hall to put them in the kitchen. Sam idly wondered when Dean would stop nesting. 

Flipping the channel before the ‘Talking Dead’ show started, Sam found the local news.

It wasn’t that Sam didn’t like the ‘Talking Dead’ –well, he wasn’t a huge fan of the host because he reminded Sam uncomfortably of Brady. Brady before the demon possession.- the show just colored Dean’s opinion about the show and Sam liked to listen to Dean’s more farfetched theories uninfluenced. 

The news was just wrapping up the weather report when Dean came back, sitting down and pulling Sam towards him. He tucked Sam’s head under his chin and held him there.

“You’re freezing!” Sam said trying to squirm away when Dean had trapped Sam’s cheek to his fall-cold chest and put his icicle fingers on the back of Sam’s neck.

“It’s cold outside Sammy,” Dean said as if Sam didn't know it was almost freezing outside and threw a leg over Sam’s to try and hold him down. 

“Why were you outside?” Sam said trying to make it look unintentional as he rubbed himself against Dean's groin. 

Dean tucked his cold nose against Sam’s forehead, “Was checking on the bird feeders.” Dean muttered.

After learning that the little snowbirds didn’t migrate during the winter, Dean had set up bird feeders for them that discouraged the larger birds and squirrels. 

“Softie.” Sam accused as he tried to break out of Dean’s hold. 

“Sammy,” Dean said, briefly squeezing Sam tighter, “We need to have sex, it’s the only way to warm me up."

Sam huffed out a small laugh, and the brothers halfheartedly wrestled for a while. Sam would almost break free before Dean would put him in a different hold and they’d start all over again.

“Though you wanted to have sex,” Sam complained as Dean put him in another mock headlock, his half hard erection pressing against Sam’s back. 

Dean hummed and nosed at Sam’s ear, “I do, but I also kind of want to watch you ride my dick?” 

Sam smiled to himself and rolled his ass back against Dean's growing erection. “Then we should get you warmed up immediately.”

Sam twisted in Dean’s arms, breaking his now loose hold and settling heavy over Dean’s lap. Dean “oof"-ed but grinned up at his brother, resting his hands on Sam’s thighs as they braced his hips.

“You're so perfect, Sammy,” Dean told him as Sam pulled his shirt over his head. 

Sam leaned forward and kissed Dean on the lips. Making out as he worked Dean’s shirt up his torso and over his head, breaking apart long enough to toss the shirt to the floor. 

Cold fingers ran along Sam’s side and back, causing him to gasp into their kiss. 

“Too cold?” Dean asked with mock worry as he pushing his cold fingers down the back of Sam’s sleep pants to palm at his ass. 

“Just have to go faster then, huh?” Sam said sitting up and moving out of Dean’s hold to sit between his legs. 

Quickly shimmying out of his pants, Sam turned to start working on Dean's only to find him kicking them off while he stroked his dick. Sam batted Dean’s hand away and replaced the firm strokes with his own. 

Sam worked Dean’s dick to the sound of Dean’s breathy moans, watching as his slit started to leak precome steadily. Sam ran his finger through the clear slick and reached up to pinch one of Dean’s nipples, smearing the liquid over his pebbled nub. Dean bucked his hips and grabbed a handful of Sam’s hair. His silent command to be more aggressive. 

Ignoring his brother’s wishes, Sam teased another drop of precome out of Dean’s cock and coated Dean’s other nipple the same as the first. 

Satisfied with his work, Sam straddled Dean’s hips, lined them up, and -still open and slick from their "study session" in the library- sank down on Dean’s dick. 

Dean moaned, one of his hands finding Sam’s hip as he scrambled for purchase, his other hand fisting in the sheets. Once Sam fully seated himself on Dean’s dick, Dean groaned and rocked his hips up into Sam’s tight heat.

“Fuck baby.” Dean panted as he blinked up at Sam in that dazed manner he does when he thinks Sam has done something amazing. 

“I will.” Sam promised, a smile curling his lip at his own joke as he splayed a large hand across Dean’s chest, and gave his hips an experimental roll. 

They both moaned as Dean’s dick shifted inside him. 

Sam leaned down and dropped a kiss to Dean’s open mouth before leaning down and sucking at his nipples. The precome he’d rubbed there was salty against his tongue as he teased the hard nub.

Giving each nipple a little-less-than-gentle love bite -to hear the breathy gasps Dean would let out- Sam sat up and rolled his hips, quickly setting a pace that had Dean’s dick brushing against his prostate. 

Dean’s hands traced along Sam’s sides -his fingers no longer chilled- as they outlined his collage of scars. Dean placed his hand over Sam’s relatively fresh anti-possession tattoo, reassurance that Sam was safe. 

His exploration had him trailing down Sam’s chest and stomach to wrap a hand around Sam’s hard dick.

“So amazing.” Dean panted, thumbing at the head of Sam’s leaking dick. “Want to keep you here forever Sammy.”

Sam could feel the desperation and hunger in Dean’s voice. He was close. 

Snapping their hips harder together Sam was determined to make them come at the same time. But Dean’s fingers digging into Sam’s hip told him otherwise. 

Dean arched against the bed, his head thrown back, the long lines of his neck on display. 

Watching, as well as feeling Dean come undone –his eyes pinched closed, his mouth parted in a silent gasp, his hand tightening around Sam’s dick- had Sam hiccupping a breath as his own orgasm swept through him. 

Sam was still trying to catch his breath when Dean’s hand in his hair guided him to lay against his brother's chest. 

“ ‘M much warmer. Thanks.” Dean said burying his face in Sam’s neck content to puff warm breaths over Sam’s skin. 

“No falling asleep.” Sam warned, his own words slurred as he wrapped his arms around Dean and enjoyed the comfortable moment of silence between them. 

 

After a few long minutes Dean prodded Sam awake and into the bathroom, running a washcloth under warm water and then over Sam’s come-soiled skin. 

They crawled back into bed together, Dean shutting off the TV as Sam fluffed his pillow just right. 

Sam waited until Dean was under the covers and comfortable before pressing his cold toes to the back of Dean’s calf. 

“Hey!” Dean barked as he flinched away. 

Sam snuggled the blankets closer, “No, fair is fair. I helped warm you up, now you help me warm up.”

Dean threw an arm over Sam’s chest, and a leg over his, scooting him closer, “Better?” He asked against Sam’s temple.

“Much.” Sam sighed happily.


	25. Wincest Love Week (Fall 2016) - Day 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note to my Anon, [delicatesammy](http://delicatesammy.tumblr.com/): _Last Day! I wanted to give you some of your requested likes so I went with pining. I hope you enjoy._ ^_^  
> This Christmas - Rating: G

Sam was sitting in the dimly lit kitchen drinking a slightly spiked eggnog. It was all the energy he could drum up for the holiday. 

They hadn’t celebrated Christmas since the countdown to Dean’s deal over a decade ago. 

The most festive they got was watching ‘A Christmas Story’ because it never failed to make them laugh. Sam liked to pretend if their mom hadn’t died that’s what their family would have been like during the holidays. 

Dad threatening to shoot the neighbor's dogs and all. 

This year felt different. 

Not that either of them wanted to celebrate Christmas -knowing God personally changed something about the equivalent to his vessel being born- but the closeness they typically felt around this time of year was absent.

It was the first time in a long while they’d had relative peace and things were back to normal, even with their mom around.

Denying the carnal side of their relationship didn’t feel all that different from the past year; Dean being unable to touch him because of Amara’s power over him and all. 

But now that there wasn’t some high power lording over them, Sam missed his brother. 

Sure, he saw him every day. And they still bickered like an old married couple. And they could have an entire conversation without saying a word, but they weren’t _together _.__

__He missed Dean’s fingers against his skin; he missed the late night dirty promises of Sam being unable to walk the next day._ _

__Missed the way Dean would get touch drunk as Sam massaged his back and broad shoulders._ _

__He didn't want to call it quits, say they had a good run and move on, being with Dean felt like a part of him was finally complete._ _

__So absorbed in his thoughts, Sam didn’t hear Dean coming down the hallway._ _

__“Sammy, I’ve got provisions to get us through the cold winter nights.” He announced coming into the kitchen and setting his shopping bags on the counter._ _

__“Yippy.” Sam drawled pulling his eggnog closer so Dean’s haul wouldn’t knock it over._ _

__Dean paused and stared at him, “Are you drunk?”_ _

__Sam squinted at him in though, the eggnog was almost gone and his drink had started out 1/4 rum and 3/4 eggnog, but the last few he’d poured were 50/50._ _

__“Maybe.” He conceded taking another sip of his drink._ _

__Dean grabbed the bottle of rum and looked it over before giving Sam a raised eyebrow, “It’s not even 4:00 in the afternoon. Why are you drinking?”_ _

__Taking another sip, Sam knew if he opened his mouth how much he missed Dean would all come pouring out. If it was over, he didn’t want to hear Dean say it._ _

__"Felt like it." He answered spinning on the barstool and opening the fridge and refilling his glass with eggnog._ _

__He turned around to Dean holding the bottle of rum to his chest, his brows furrowed in confusion as he started at Sam._ _

__With a sigh, Sam resigned himself to dodging Dean’s guesses as to why “he was being so emo”._ _

__“The last case was a win.” Dean started setting the bottle down and sliding it out of Sam’s reach. “You’re the one that told me to give mom space, so I imagine you’re not drinking because of that.” He rambled._ _

__“It’s not a girl,” Dean said slowly, watching for Sam’s reaction._ _

__Sam couldn’t stop the huff of disbelief at the accusation._ _

__He’d only hooked up with Piper because she reminded him of Dean. She’d used one of Dean’s favorite pickup lines, and before Sam knew it, her shift was over, and she was sweet talking her way into the back of the Impala. The icing on the cake was instead of the jealously Sam had anticipated from Dean; he had been encouraging and supportive of Sam getting laid._ _

__For as much of a people-person Dean was, he could be really dense sometimes._ _

__“It’s not- it’s not us is it?” Dean stuttered._ _

__Sam stared at him for a long moment before concluding that his brother really could be that oblivious sometimes and took another drink._ _

__Dean pointed a finger at him, “You say we’re fine all the time!” Dean protested._ _

__“And we are.” Sam agreed._ _

__“Liar!” Dean snatched the glass from Sam’s unexpected hand. “You don’t get sloppy drunk in the middle of the afternoon when you think we're okay.”_ _

__Sam made an uncoordinated grab for the glass, but Dean easily dodged his flailing arms._ _

__“Sam.” Dean demanded._ _

__“I miss you!” Sam spat out, “And I don’t mean I just miss the sex, even though I miss that too. I miss waking up next to you. I miss the smell of you on my skin the next day. But we _are fine_ because I still have you. You didn’t die when Amara stopped her rampage, and I don’t want to demand more of you if you don’t-“ Sam stopped himself, he hated the way rum loosened his lips. “We’re fine.”_ _

__Dean rounded the kitchen island so quickly Sam didn’t have time to put up an arm, let alone start to repair his defenses. Dean cupped Sam’s jaw in both hands and pulled him into a demanding kiss._ _

__Sam melted into the kiss, bringing his hands up to rest on Dean’s sides._ _

__They made out for several long minutes, hands brushing clothing out of the way to palm at warm skin._ _

__“You taste like the beginning of Christmas regret,” Dean informed him as he swept Sam’s hair behind his ear._ _

__“Shouldn’t have bought eggnog in November if you didn’t want me drinking it,” Sam told him matter-of-factly._ _

__Dean scoffed a laugh and pulled Sam back in for another long kiss._ _

__“How long have you felt this way?” Dean whispered, his breath warm against Sam’s lips._ _

__“What year is it?” Sam joked back._ _

__“Bitch,” Dean said affectionately._ _

__The endearment forced tears to Sam’s eyes, and he bit them back, his breath catching in his throat. He wouldn’t cry the first time he was able to have Dean this close after so long._ _

__Instead, he pressed his lips back to Dean’s and slipped both hands under Dean’s shirt to tease the skin above his jeans._ _

__Dean squirmed away as Sam’s fingers found a soft spot, “Come on.” He said taking Sam’s hand, “Let’s see if I can make it up to you.”_ _

__Sam tried to stand but his knees buckled and Dean’s strong arms were suddenly wrapped around him, keeping him from hitting the ground._ _

__“Such a lush,” Dean muttered getting one of Sam’s arms around his shoulders so he could help him walk to Dean’s bedroom._ _

__Sam flopped onto Dean’s bed, rolling around until Dean pinned him to the bed and kissed him again._ _

__Dean’s mouth traced down his jaw line to his neck and Sam let out a half-hearted moan, his eyes struggling to stay open._ _

__Dean paused sucking at the sensitive skin just below Sam’s ear to ask, “You’re gonna pass out on me, aren’t you?”_ _

__“Am not.” Sam slurred, already half asleep._ _

__Lips quickly pressed against his then Dean wiggled his way under Sam’s arm, so they were tucked together, Sam laying halfway across Dean’s chest._ _

__Sam fell asleep with the sound of Dean’s heartbeat in his ear._ _

__\- - -_ _

__Dean let him sleep off the hangover the next morning, then -after a light breakfast of buttered toast in bed- Dean made good on his promise to make up the last year of inattention._ _


	26. Wincest Love Week (Summer 2017) - Day 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Season ½: Forced to share a single bed as it’s all the motel had left

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not have a weakness for bed sharing….

The rain coming down was so heavy they could only see a few feet ahead of the headlights.

“We’re going thirty-five,” Dean said as he glanced at the speedometer, “First pull out I see I’m taking it.”

Sam gave a hum of acknowledgment, with the sound of the rain on the car roof he was already half asleep. Sleeping in the car overnight wasn’t his first choice, but it was better than continuing to drive through the sheets of rain.

It hadn’t quite been a year since Jess’ death, but Sam had once again become accustomed to the nomadic lifestyle.

Sleeping in the car had been part of that. Almost until Sam left for school, they had occasionally slept in the back seat, piled on each other like puppies with Sam just taller than Dean at the time.

The most comfortable position was Dean laying on his back with Sam draped across his chest, their legs tangled together as both of them were too tall to stretch out completely.

A faint red glow in the distance had Dean let out a sigh, and a muttered, “Jackpot.”

They were both soaked to the bone as Dean let them into the motel room.

Sam from getting their duffels from the trunk, and Dean from the sprint to the office and then shoving the shotguns into a duffel to bring inside with them.

“Gonna have to make due,” Dean said as he fumbled for the light.

Sam felt resignation settle over him, “Do they not have hot water?”

Dean hit the light to illuminate the full-sized bed in the middle of the small room.

“Single bed.”

Sam felt his heart rate kick up and a lump form in his throat.

He wasn’t ready for this. When he even thought of rekindling how they had been before college, he broke out in cold sweats at the thought of waking up and finding Dean like Jess.

If he kept his distance, kept Dean at a distance, it couldn’t happen. They would- sleeping in the same bed would be okay.

Sam took a deep breath and settled his nerves. 

 

Dean must have taken the expression on Sam’s face for objection because he rushed to explain, “There is a rodeo in town, and the guy said he has the last place with a room available.”

“It’s fine,” Sam assured him.

“Yeah,” Dean easily agreed, setting the gear on the kitchenette table, “just don’t hog all the blankets.”

Appreciating Dean’s ability to dance around the elephant in the room effortlessly, Sam set the damp duffels on the ground and shrugged out of his jacket, “I’m not the one who makes a cocoon out of blankets.”

Dean scoffed.

“For that, I’m going to grab the first shower,” Sam informed him.

Dean gave him a long look. Assessing. “Fine, but if you’re not out in 5 minutes, I’m getting in with you.”

That brought Sam up short, “Why?”

“We don’t know how accurate your crack about the hot water is.”

Sam rolled his eyes and headed into the bathroom.

With the threat of Dean’s joining him, Sam was shutting the water off just as Dean was opening the bathroom door in nothing more than his boxers.

“You have an obsession with showers,” Sam told him as he wrapped a towel around his waist.

“I have an obsession with not freezing my nuts off.” Dean countered. His arms were covered in goosebumps, and he was visibly shaking standing just inside the doorway.

Without a backward glance, Dean turned on the hot water and stepped in, boxers and all.

He hissed out a silent curse as the warm water hit his cold skin, but Sam was already retreating to the room. 

Sam dried and dressed quickly, debating if he should be under the covers when Dean got out, or if he should wait and see how Dean wanted their sleeping arrangements.

The still pouring rain outside made the room feel colder than it was.

Sam didn’t want Dean to think he had claimed the bed because Dean would sleep on the floor to continue to give him the space Sam had silently been asking for since they started on the road again together.

It wasn’t fair to punish Dean for something Sam could barely control himself, so he waited.

Not wanting to get wrapped up in finding a case on his laptop, Sam settled for sharpening the knives Dean had managed to toss in the duffel back in their haste to get into the room.

Dean’s shower was far longer than Sam’s own. Probably an even split between wanting to give Sam space, and enjoying the heat of the shower. Dean did have a weird penchant for water.

Sam was just starting on the curve of his small scythe when Dean came out wrapped in two towels. One around his waist, the other draped over his head.

“How many pillows did you want?” Dean asked as he scrubbed the towel over his hair.

“One is fine,” Sam said suspiciously.

Dean grabbed the extra blanket from the top of the closet and snagged a pillow from the bed before dropping them both on the floor.

“You don’t-“ Sam stopped himself and refocused on his blade.

He wouldn’t push.

Dean’s unusual silence had Sam sneaking a glance at him. His brother was standing in the middle of the room, watching him.

Silently, Dean raised an eyebrow and Sam caved, “You don’t have to sleep on the ground. It’s just going to get colder, and who knows what’s been on this carpet.”

Taking the olive branch for what it was, Dean put the pillow back on the bed and continued to get dressed for sleep.

Once Dean was in boxers, a bare thread tee, and under the covers, Sam gave up the charade of keeping himself busy and set aside the knives.

The TV was on and playing one of the obscure Westerns Dean seemed so fond of.

“You gonna be up long?” Sam asked packing the sharpener tools away.

“Probably not,” Dean answered followed by a jaw-popping yawn.

Sam chuckled at him and turned off the light on the way to bed.

The covers were clean and smelled like they’d been freshly washed, but the freshly washed smell of Dean was stronger. The sense memory it brought back had Sam burying his face into the pillow to chase away the feelings that rose with them.

Oblivious to Sam’s inner turmoil, Dean clicked off the TV and settled himself under the covers. Immediately trying to steal as much of Sam’s half of the blankets as possible.   
Dean’s continuous wriggling and tugging had Sam unwillingly participating in the tug-of-war.

“Thief.” Sam accused without heart, holding down what he could of the covers.

“Blanket hog.” Dean shot back as he pressed against Sam’s side.

Sam gave a yelp of shock as Dean’s still cold form pressed against him. “You’re freezing!” Sam hissed.

“I know, that’s why I want the blanket.” Dean snapped.

Sam gave up the blanket and instead rolled on top of his brother, pressing him into the mattress.

Even after four years apart and another few inches of a growth spurt, Sam was still smaller than Dean but the way Dean went stilled under him, Sam might as well have had another hundred pounds of muscle on his brother.

Taking advantage of Dean’s stillness, Sam tangled their legs together and settled his head against Dean’s chest, tugged the blanket up over his shoulder.

“You good?” Sam asked into the darkness.

Dean’s hand came up to settle between Sam’s shoulder blades, “Yeah, you?”

Sam gave a hum of confirmation as he listened to the steady drum of Dean’s heart against his ear.

The rain was starting to let up outside, and Sam felt more than content to fall asleep pressed against Dean while steady fingers started combing through his hair.


	27. Wincest Love Week (Summer 2017) - Day 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carpet Burns - Rating: Explicit  
> Additional Tags: Weecest

The screech of chair legs being pushed across old hardwood floors was too loud to ignore.

Sam slammed his notepad on the couch cushion next to him with a clatter, “I’m trying to read!” He yelled into the other room. 

“Don’t strain anything!” Came Dean’s answering yell.

Sam huffed and picked up the book he’d been reading. He was determined to finish this book report. Not only was this the longest they’d been in one place this year, he hadn’t been assigned this book in any other school, and he wanted to get a good grade on it.

Sam had just started to make another set of notes on his notepad when Dean slammed a couple of cupboards closed and yelled, “What do you think 1970 canned beans taste like?”

“Probably like 1998 canned beans,” Sam muttered sarcastically to himself as he returned to his book.

Dean wasn’t done with the conversation as he walked into the living room, still inspecting the old can. “We should cook them over a fire for that extra authenticity.”

Sam sighed and looked up at Dean, “Do we really not have other food?”

Inclining his head towards the kitchen entrance, Dean said, “We’re fine. Still have a couple days’ worth of lunch meat, and cheese, and bread.”

“Then no, I don’t want to eat beans that are older than you,” Sam informed him before turning back to his book.

Dean gave a tug at Sam’s book -but long familiar with Dean’s antics- Sam reflexively held on, preventing the book from leaving his fingers.

“Oh, come on Sammy. Let’s do something else.” Dean cooed.

“Leave my book alone Dean,” Sam warned.

“What if I found something else to do?” Dean purred as he ran his warm hands up Sam’s legs to rest high on his thigh.

Sam bit the inside of his cheek to feign disinterest, “Knock yourself out.”

Dean’s sure fingers made quick work of Sam’s pants and boxers, freeing his already half hard erection for Dean to press spit-slick kisses against.

With a pleased sigh, Sam spread his legs for Dean to settle between. If Dean wanted to give Sam a blowjob while Sam got his homework done; Sam wasn’t going to stop him.

With his mouth alternating between sucking and teasing the slit of Sam’s cock, Dean managed to convince Sam to take off his shirt.

If he were hoping the fact Sam had to switch hands to keep a hand on the book would dissuade him from continuing to read, he was sorely mistaken.

But with Dean’s tongue continuing to tease the underside of his cockhead, Sam took the chance to jot down one last note before Dean completely incapacitated his higher brain function.

Many months -creeping into years- of practice had Dean hitting all the right places and causing Sam to try, and fail, to stifle his appreciative moans.

Sam read the same paragraph three times before deciding the book was a lost cause and dog eared the page to look down at Dean, only to find him staring back.

Sam’s cock came free from Dean’s mouth with a wet pop, “About time. Thought I was losing my touch.”

“It’s because you’re turning into an old man.” Sam informed him with a straight face.

Dean frowned and Sam had half a second to try and defend himself before Dean was hauling him off the couch and onto the scratchy floor with him.

“Old my ass.” Dean growled before pressing their lips together in a demanding kiss.

Sam huffed a laugh into the kiss and brought his hands up to Dean’s face to angle him where he wanted so he could have a better chance at dominating their kiss.

Dean freed Sam from his boxers and jeans before settling between Sam’s bent knees and -still loose from their ‘before school activities’- Dean spit slicked a finger and shallowly fucked Sam on the single digit.

Unable to hold back the needy whine, Sam mewed and bucked his hips, encouraging Dean to get on with the show.

“Not fucking you without lube.” Dean reminded him, for what probably was close to the hundredth time.

“Lube is too far away.” Sam protested, wiggling his hips again.

Dean ducked down and kissed Sam until they were both rocking against each other and panting for breath.

“Better safe than sorry.” Dean chirped as he got off the floor and retreated to their bedroom, returning moments later with lube in hand.

Once Dean was back between Sam’s legs, Sam rolled his hips and arched his back, silently begging Dean to hurry the hell up.

“Such a tease.” Dean chastised as he slicked his dick with lube.

“Your tease.” Sam corrected.

The statement had Dean pressing their lips together in a frantic kiss.

They didn’t ever outright tell each other ‘I love you’ but they tried whenever they could. Sam was just happy Dean heard that one loud and clear. 

Mindful of the prep from hours earlier, Dean lined them up with a hand under Sam’s hip and eased in.

Both moaned as Dean filled him to the hilt.

They kissed for a few long minutes until Sam gave an impatient buck of his hips.

“If you’re going to distract me…” Sam trailed off, watching as the mischievous gleam in Dean’s eye grew to match Sam’s.

“Prepare to be distracted, little brother,” Dean said through a troublemaker smirk.

He gave an experimental thrust, watching Sam for discomfort, and when he found none, he quickly set a brutal pace that had Sam’s dick bouncing against his stomach from the force.

The appreciative moans fell from Sam’s mouth unchecked as Dean wrapped his still lube-slick hand around Sam’s cock.

It wasn’t long before Sam was grabbing for Dean’s forearm as his orgasm rocked through him. He never could handle the dual prostate and cock stimulation for very long. 

Dean’s orgasm came a dozen thrusts later, his hips snapping to Sam’s as he buried his face in his little brother’s neck.

Once Dean released him, Sam stretched out along Dean’s side, his shoulder’s pulling tight like he had a sunburn.

Dean held up the back of his hand for Sam to investigate. His knuckles were raw and an angry red.

“That’s going to need ointment,” Sam commented.

“Yeah, but not just yet.” Dean protested, sleepily pulling Sam against his side.

Sam wriggled towards the sofa and tried to duck under Dean’s possessive grasp.

If he could just get to his book, Dean might try for a second round.


	28. Wincest Love Week (Summer 2017) - Day 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Wet Dream  
> Additional Tag: Weecest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went more the 'wet dreams' direction.....

Sam shoved his last pair of soiled boxers into his duffel.

The motel they were staying in had a laundry mat on-site and Sam couldn’t have been more grateful. He had never been a big fan of doing his own laundry, but Dean had made a smart-aleck comment about finding a pair of Sam’s “jizz stiff boxers”. Dad had shut the teasing down almost immediately, but it didn’t stop the embarrassment from welling in Sam’s chest.

His hormones were out of control; his voice kept cracking mid-sentence, he was constantly hungry, and last week he thought he found a chin hair.

“It’s natural,” Dad had said, “You’re turning into a man. Soon you’ll be as big as your brother.”

A part of Sam didn’t think his dad would take too well to learning his transition into manhood was punctuated with sex dreams involving said brother. But apparently, Sam’s subconscious didn’t have any reservations about it.

Sam had taken to washing his own clothes on the off chance they somehow told Dean he was partly to blame for the mess.

“Going somewhere?” So lost in through, Dean’s sudden appearance at the foot of the bed made Sam flinch.

“No,” Sam answered too quickly, his voice cracking over the single word.

Dean rolled his eyes, “Because you’re so good about keeping your clothes together.” He deadpanned.

Sam refused to answer him as he shouldered his bag and moved around Dean, snagging the quarters off the TV stand as he crossed the room.

“Not back by dinner I’m coming to get you.” Dean called as Sam closed the motel door.

 

The spinning of the machines was loud in the small room under the lobby of their current motel.

Sam busied himself with an old magazine, already longing for the book he’d forgot in the motel room. But Dean was still there, and Sam didn’t want to risk another round of teasing to retrieve it.

Giving up on the national geographic, Sam gave a bored groan and stretched out across the top of the dryer and the still spinning washer.

If he could just stop obsessing over the way Dean came out of the bathroom in nothing more than a towel he wouldn’t be stuck over-washing his good boxers.

Or the way Dean’s lower lip glistened pink as he nibbled on it while they sat at the table doing their homework together. Or the way Dean effortlessly manhandled him while they sparred.

Sam groaned with frustration; his dick was hard just thinking about it.

The laundry room door opened and Sam scrambled to sit up and grab the magazine to try and discreetly cover his problem.

His prayers for whoever it was to go away went unanswered as Dean strolled around the corner with that walk that told anyone who bothered to listen, he owned the place.

Dean held up the book Sam had been longing for with a grin, “Forgot something?”

Sam snatched it from his hand with a muttered “Thanks” before going back to praying Dean would just leave.

As further proof the universe was against him, the washer chose that moment to give out a shrill buzz indicating the clothes were done.

They stared at each other for a long moment before Dean raised an eyebrow, “You going to get that?”

“In a minute.” Sam said going for casual, but he knew it was ruined as he felt his face continue to heat up under Dean’s intense stare.

“Oh,” Dean cooed in realization, “You’re having a bit of trouble, aren’t you?”

Sam refused to meet his eyes.

“What were you thinking about?” Dean asked as he moved in to lean a hip against the washer, they were almost eye level now. “Were you thinking about a girl from your class?”

Sam shook his head.

“A boy from your class?”

Sam shook his head again, feeling his cheeks heat further.

Dean was suddenly pressing himself between Sam’s legs, causing Sam to yelp in surprise. Dean’s hands on either side of Sam’s thighs caged Sam on top of the washer. “Or were you thinking about me?” Dean whispered in the space between them.

Sam snapped his gaze to Dean’s too green eyes and felt his throat close in horror. Dean knew.

All his hiding and all his secrecy was for nothing because Dean. Knew.

With that flirty smile Sam had only ever seen directed at pretty older girls, Dean leaned in closer, his words a mere whisper when he asked, “Do you mean it?”

Sam forced himself to breathe. “Mean what?”

“You know,” Dean edged, eyes darting towards the silent washer under them before returning to Sam’s face, “When you moan my name in your sleep right before you cream your pants? Do you mean it?”

With his dick throbbing, Sam abandoned the magazine and grabbed Dean’s face as he surged up for a kiss.

The kiss was short, and Sam knew he pressed their lips together too hard, but the softness of Dean’s lips against his was worth it.

When Dean didn’t take the kiss further, Sam pulled back and ducked his head, trying to push Dean away as regret clenched his heart.

He didn’t get far before Dean’s gentle hand on his face stilled his retreat. Sam blinked up at Dean from under his eyelashes.

Dean’s cocky smirk that Sam loved so much was firmly in place.

“Was that a yes?”

Sam playfully shoved him again, a different kind of embarrassment settling in his chest. “Yes. You happy now?”

Dean cupped his face and pressed their foreheads together. “I am.” He promised before pressing his lips against Sam’s and teaching him how to kiss properly.


	29. Wincest Love Week (Summer 2017) - Day 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Protective!Dean  
> Additional Tag: Weecest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to my Anon: I keep getting this feeling you’re a fan of Protective!Dean, but like, don’t know where on _earth_ I got that idea from. ;)

“I’m going to break his fucking knee caps,” Dean growled.

“Come on.” Sam protested. “Let it go.”

If Sam didn’t try to reign Dean in now that guy was going to wake up in a ditch. If he woke up at all.

It wouldn’t be the first time, and Sam doubted it would be the last.

“Let it–” Dean gave a growl of frustration, “Sam, he grabbed you.”

“Did not. He touched my arm.” Sam protested.

“Oh, your arm.” Dean repeated with a sneer, “Then I’ll only cave his fucking nose in with my boot.”

Sam gave a heavy sigh and leveled Dean with an exasperated look. “You can’t go around beating people up because they get close to me.”

“I can, and I will,” Dean muttered to himself.

“And I can try to stop you,” Sam told him firmly.

Dean stopped his pacing and turned towards Sam, “If I so much as see the hideous color of his pickup truck I’m going to shoot him.”

Biting his lip, Sam couldn’t argue with that. As much as he didn’t want Dean kicking some adult’s ass and setting the police sniffing after their tails, he also didn’t want that guy hanging around.

The two times Sam saw him it made his skin crawl. They’d been having breakfast at the diner the third-time Sam saw him. Sam had gone to the bathroom, and the guy was suddenly there, standing far too close and introducing himself with a firm hand on Sam’s shoulder for far too long.

Before Sam could even begin to excuse himself away from the older man, Dean was slamming the bathroom door open and wrenching Sam away from the man’s grasp. If Sam hadn’t immediately taken Dean’s hand and started tugging him away, Dean would have at least punched the guy.

They couldn’t afford the hassle. The neighborhood busy-body was already keeping a sharp eye on “the highway motel hoodlums” and if Dean punched a guy out in the same restaurant she was drinking coffee with other blue hairs- damn the police- she’d have their heads.

Dean had said he’d seen the guy around but when Sam mentioned he’d also seen him a couple of times Dean had given him a look that spoke volumes about the difference in times they’d seen him lurking about.

“If you’re not going to let me chase him away then we’re moving motels,” Dean argued. “Switch up the routine so you’re harder to follow.”

“I don’t want to change motels,” Sam objected, “This one is close to the center of town.”

Dean had to recognize how rarely they stayed in a motel that was so surrounded by people. By good, normal, house owning people. Sam wanted Dean to recognize this was their semblance of what living in a town would be like.

Shattering the domestic illusion, Dean asked, “Do you have your butterfly knife?”

Sam reached over and tugged it out of his backpack. “Yes.”

“You remember how to use it?”

Irritated that Dean would have to ask, Sam flipped it open with one hand -the blade lovingly sharpened by Dean’s own hand- before flicking it closed.

“Good. Keep that in your pocket.” Dean instructed. Sam opened his mouth to object, but Dean beat him to it, “No arguments. You’re not going to kill someone with it, but you’re going to hurt them enough you’ll have time to get away.”

Obediently, Sam slipped the knife into his pocket. “Anything else mom?” The hurt look that flitted over Dean’s face made Sam regret the smart remark, but it was replaced with Dean’s typical ‘angry big brother face’ before Sam could apologize. “Yeah, don’t go anywhere without me while we’re here. Not even to the library.”

“Dean, I don’t need a babysitter.”

“I know Sammy.” Dean hesitated before adding, “But I want to be there if you need me.”

Sam watched him shift in nervousness from the admission. He knew there would never be a day he woke up and didn’t need his big brother. But he didn’t know if Dean always knew that.

Reaching across the space that separated them, Sam took Dean’s hand and pulled him to lie down on the bed. He curled against Dean’s side and pressed his face to Dean’s chest, nose to nose with the amulet that hung around his neck.

“I’ll always need you,” Sam whispered into Dean’s chest.

Dean answered by manhandling Sam to lie across his front so he could wrap both arms around his younger brother and hold him.

They lie there for a long time, enjoying each other’s embrace before Sam shifted his legs to get more comfortable and noticed Dean’s growing erection pressed against Sam’s stomach.

It seemed anytime they touched these days they were instantly hard. In retrospect, that was probably why Dean was so upset about that creepy guy touching him.

“Do– do you want some help?” Sam asked as his face flamed in embarrassment. He hoped one day he could talk about giving each other a hand without blushing.

Dean used one of his many wrestling moves to flip them over, Sam’s legs on either side of Dean’s hips now. Before Sam could analyze how Dean managed to do that, Dean was pressing an urgent kiss to Sam’s lips.

Sam responded and wrapped his legs further around Dean’s waist, his own dick waking under Dean’s hips as they rocked against his own.

Unsatisfied with their dry humping, Sam scrambled to open his jeans and pull out his dick, tugging at the buttons of Dean’s own jeans to encourage him to do the same.

Once they pulled their clothes off enough to free both their erections, Dean fisted both their cocks in one hand before rocking forward, dragging a moan from Sam’s throat.

Keeping pace with Dean’s thrusting, it wasn’t long before Sam was tightening his arms and legs around Dean as his release slipped over Dean’s fingers and onto Sam’s stomach.

“You’re fucking perfect Sammy,” Dean gasped as he watched Sam shake under him. Pressing a kiss to Sam’s forehead Dean whispered, “My perfect Sammy.” Before adding his own release to the mess growing on Sam’s stomach.

Sam preened under Dean’s praise. The washcloth Dean had fetched to clean up Sam’s stomach only added to the sense of right as they lazily dressed and curled back together on the bed. Sam laying across Dean’s chest, fingering the amulet as his eyes grew heavy.

“I am still going to break that guy’s legs if we see him again,” Dean said into the crown of Sam’s hair.

Sam gave an amused huff of laughter, “If he gets close enough to me again then I’ll help.”


	30. Wincest Love Week (Summer 2017) - Day 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt my Anon had posted: [Found Here](http://cockslutjared.tumblr.com/post/57823962978/wincesthaikus-the-motel-bed-creaks-beneath-the).  
> Additional Tags: Weecest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this deliciously wincest haiku found [here](http://cockslutjared.tumblr.com/post/57823962978/wincesthaikus-the-motel-bed-creaks-beneath-the).

Smothering Sam’s moan with their lips pressed together, and Dean kept his finger pumping slowly in and out of Sam’s tight hole.

They were trying to get in a quickie before Dad came back from the store with a six pack.

As usual, it was Sam’s idea to fuck when they were facing a high likelihood of getting caught, the little exhibitionist. But Dean never could tell Sam no when he really wanted something, and sex was no exception.

They were still both fully dressed, Sam’s soccer shorts baggy enough Dean could slide his hand all the way up to Sam’s ass. Dean had never considered how hot keeping clothes on during sex could be until Sam came along and changed everything.

Sam was willing to try anything and had a laundry list of things he wanted to try and was more than patient enough to wait Dean’s reservations out.

Oddly enough, fucking in the rented bungalow they were sharing with their father wasn’t a hard battle for Sam to win.

Dean’s finger passed over Sam’s prostate and Sam gave a choked moan before latching his mouth to the side of Dean’s neck, worrying the sensitive skin with his lips and teeth.

The twitching cock inside Sam’s shorts jumped when Dean pressed a second finger against his rim, working it in alongside the first.

He twisted the fingers inside Sam’s tight hole,

The roar of the Impala pulling into the motel had Dean shoved his fingers into the knuckle, watching as Sam arched against his hand and let out a loud unchecked moan.

Okay, so maybe Sam wasn’t the only one who got a little turned on when the threat of getting caught hung over their heads.

The engine cut off and through the thin motel walls, Dean could hear the driver side door close. “Going to ride my dick later little brother,” Dean promised pulling his hand out. Sam gave a needy moan and rolled his hips in frustration; his flushed cheeks looked like nothing more than he’d just ran home from practice

Dean sat back on the couch and wiped his lube slicked fingers on the pant leg of his jeans as John walked through the door.

John took one look his boys on the couch and hooked his finger towards the bathroom, “Sammy, get your sweaty ass off the couch and take a shower.”

“Yes, dad.” Sam drawled with his ever-present dissension.

As John turned to put the beer in the fridge, Sam jumped up from the couch, the bulge of his hard dick visible under his shorts, and sprinted to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

The sound of the bathroom door closing made John flinch from where he was half buried in the fridge. With a sigh John closing the fridge door and offered one of the two beers to Dean.

He gave his oldest and assessing look, “As weird as that kid can get, I still think you’re taking the cake.” He finished the statement by pointing to his own neck meaningfully.

Frowning, Dean copied the movement, his hand coming in contact with a tender spot.

Sam, the little bastard, had left a hickey on his neck.

Dean felt his cheeks heat as his dad raised an eyebrow, “You’re 18 now, how about you start making sure the girls you’re parking with are of age too.”

The old turn of phrase had Dean grimacing in dismay, “Oh gross dad, I don’t wanna talk about this with you.”

John shrugged and popped the beer top with his ring, “Just a thought.”

\- - -

“I think you want us to get caught.” Dean accused later that night as he pressed Sam against the croquette blanket stretched across their rented bed.

“Maybe?” Sam purred nipping Dean’s at lip when he went in for a kiss.

Dean hummed in acknowledgment and dropped a kiss to Sam’s lips. “Then I’ll just have to go real slow and not surprise you.”

Tapping a finger along Sam’s hip, Dean rolled onto his back and shimmied out his boxers; his hard dick bounced against his stomach. “Saddle up Sammy.”

With an amused huff, Sam straddled Dean’s hips and lined them up, sinking down on Dean’s dick as quickly as he dared. Dean arched under him and wrapped his hands around Sam’s hips and stilled him, “Not an 8-second ride, slow down.”

“Dean come on,” Sam whined, shimmying his hips and splaying his hands on Dean’s chest. “Wanna feel you.”

Dean rocked Sam across his lap, “You will just go slow.”

With a groan, Sam followed suit, rolling in time with Dean’s pushing.

Watching Sam writhe above him had Dean flexing his hands over Sam’s hip bones, Sam taking it as encouragement to move faster.

The bed beneath them groaned in protest, then a squeak in time with each of Sam’s movements. The rhythmic sound of sex was unmissable from years of motel living.

“Slower, slower Sammy.” Dean hissed, pushed at Sam’s hips, “Dad’ll hear us.”

Sam stifled a groaned, “Doesn’t matter.” was Sam answered whisper as he and folded over Dean and latched on to the same spot he’d left a hickey hours earlier.

Tangling his fingers in Sam’s hair, Dean halfheartedly tried to pull him off, the slow rocking of Sam’s hips serving as a distraction.

“Want you to come Dean.” Sam moaned dropping a hand to his own cock.

Dean grabbed Sam’s hips and bucked into him with enough force to knock the frame against the wall twice before he was spilling his release into Sam.

Sam ground down on Dean’s lap and stripped his cock faster, the warm feel of Dean coming inside him was the final piece to trigger his orgasm, spilling across Dean’s stomach with a choked off moan.

\- - -

John rubbed a firm hand over his eyes until spots danced behind his lids.

For as smart as his boys were, they were awful fucking stupid.

These walls were paper thin, and if they thought they were actually keeping a secret from him, they were in for a wake-up call. But John wasn’t about to bring it up anytime soon. The more involved they got with each other, the easier John slept at night knowing they would always have someone at their six.

14 years was far too long in this business to waste energy being concerned over something like this.


	31. Wincest Love Week (Summer 2017) - Day 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: NSFW with no hands  
> Additional Tag: Weecest

The motel room key was loud as it slotted into the lock. The teeth were misaligned just enough it always took a few times before it gave way. 

Dean smiled to himself as he heard Sam pause momentarily to kick the door before twisting the key again, the lock finally giving in. 

“Very funny Dean.” Sam snapped as he dropped his backpack just inside the door, “You didn’t have to lock it.” 

“Nope.” Dean agreed with a grin. 

With a sigh, Sam flopped down next to Dean on the couch, unapologetically laying his head and shoulders across Dean’s lap. 

“Have a good day at school?” Dean asked sinking his fingers into Sam’s hair. 

“Bored most the time.” Sam answered with a sigh. 

“Could always drop out.” Dean suggested petting Sam’s hair, “Get your GED and just say fuck it.” 

Sam had seriously considered it for a time. But he knew he wanted to attend college and the sooner he got his GED, the sooner he would feel obligated to start. A GED meant leaving for school sooner. Sam fantasized about telling Dean about his college applications and Dean agreeing to run away with him, but Dean’s loyalty to their Dad -and their long dead Mom- was still strong and Sam didn’t want to force Dean to choose. 

Another year of school wouldn’t be so bad, especially since Sam being in school meant it gave Dean the sense of home a few weeks at a time. 

“Would rather stay in school.” Sam finally answered, turning his head towards Dean’s stomach. 

“Nerd.” Dean teased affectionately. 

Sam nuzzled his face into Dean’s stomach, pressing his mouth against the clothes and exhaling warm. 

Dean’s fingers gave his hair a gentle tug, “You trying to start something, Sammy?” 

They’d been lovers for a while now, Dean had only managed to hold out against Sam’s advances for a few months. A few months before Dean was the one asking Dad if they could have the keys to go for a night drive so they could pull over in the middle of the night for mutual blow jobs in the backseat. 

(John couldn’t believe his boys thought he wouldn’t hear the fading car engine cut off only a few blocks away, then start up again 15 minutes later. He wasn’t stupid; he just didn’t see the need to draw attention to it.)

Sam had taken to riding Dean’s dick like it was his life’s mission, but recently he’d become obsessed with wanting to come only with Dean’s cock in him, no hands on his own dick. 

They’d been trying for a while now, and Sam just wouldn’t seem to make it work, but practice made perfect. 

Putting a hand on the other side of Dean’s hip, Sam pushed himself up so he could look Dean in the eyes.

“I want to try again.” 

Dean didn’t pretend to misunderstand him. “You wanna do it here or on the bed?” 

Sam’s cheeks flushed crimson, “I want to do it here, on the couch.”

Dean settled a hand on Sam’s hip with a grin, “That’s my boy.” 

Crowding against Dean’s side, Sam pressed their lips together, wrapping a hand around Dean’s neck to hold him close. 

Dean went pliant under Sam’s lips, leaning back on the couch and dragging Sam to sit across his lap. 

Rocking against each other, Dean worked open Sam’s pants so he could have easier access to cup Sam’s ass in his hands, grinding them together hard. 

“Come on Dean,” Sam moaned, “Come on, come on, come on.”

Dean shushed him and kissed under his jaw as he spread Sam’s ass cheeks to press his fingers against Sam’s tight hole. “Not in any rush Sammy.”

With a muttered moan of protest, Sam buried his face in Dean’s neck and pressed his ass back into Dean’s hand.

Dean used two fingers to stretch Sam’s ass until Sam’s cock was straining the front of his jeans from where it was trapped in the denim. 

“Dean, please.” Sam whined against Dean’s collar bone. 

“So needy baby brother.” Dean whispered against his temple, earning a moan and a buck of his hips from Sam. 

Dean withdrew one of his hands from Sam’s jeans and felt along between the couch cushions, coming up with the bottle of lube Sam kept in his duffel. 

At Sam’s curious frown, Dean shrugged, “What can I say? I’m a natural boy scout.” 

Too horny to argue, Sam stood long enough to tug off his jeans and boxers before moving to settle back across Dean’s lap, pressing his dick urgently against Dean’s stomach. 

“Love when you get like this,” Dean whispered into Sam’s hair, his lube slick fingers quickly pressing back against Sam’s hole. Sam’s breath hiccuped when Dean worked in three fingers. “Like a cat in heat Sammy. Don’t care what goes in this tight hole as long as you get filled up.” 

Sam moaned and pushed back on Dean’s hand, “Love you inside the best.” He whimpered. 

Dean rewarded the admission by encouraging Sam to sit up on his knees so he could free his own hard cock from his jeans. 

“Ready to try again baby brother?” Dean whispered into their kiss. 

Without releasing Dean’s lips, Sam slowly sat back on Dean’s dick, trusting his brother to line them up properly.

The mushroom tip eased past Sam’s stretched hole with ease, and Sam was settling flush across Dean’s hips with one quick movement. 

Dean groaned and grabbed for Sam’s hips with both hands, “Woah baby brother, easy,“ Dean soothed, “easy. It’s a marathon, not a sprint.” 

“Feels so good Dean.” Sam answered clenching around Dean’s dick earning a deep throated groan from Dean. 

“Sit up and go slow.” Dean encouraged, wrapping his hand around Sam’s thighs and lifting him. 

With a nod, Sam eased up and rocked across Dean’s lap, trying to feel for Dean’s cock to touch his sweet spot. 

It took a few long strokes until Sam found the right angle. Now it was a matter of being able to endure the sheer pleasure of it and not touch his dick. 

He’d got close a couple tries ago, but made the mistake of making eye contact with Dean when he was too close and the hunger he saw in his brother’s eyes had him reaching for his dick and stripping it until his come pooled on Dean’s stomach. 

“That’s it, Sammy. Nice and slow.” Dean praised dropping his hand down to press behind Sam’s balls. The burst of pleasure had his eyes rolling back in his head and a groan leaving his throat unchecked. “Nice and slow.” Dean purred. 

Sam leaned back on Dean’s lap, a hand around Dean’s neck helping him keep the right angle. 

“So tight little brother.” Dean whispered brushing a finger over the rim of Sam’s hole where it was stretched around Dean’s cock before returning to pressing against Sam’s perineum. 

“Dean, I’m-“ Sam moaned and doubled his effort to fuck himself on Dean’s cock, the warmth pooling in his balls was a growing a pressure before the tide of his orgasm washed over him, whiting out his vision and dragging a ragged moan from deep in his throat. 

Sam came to a few moments later with his face buried in Dean’s neck and Dean’s big hands wrapped around Sam’s thighs as he fucked up into Sam still fluttering hole. 

“So fucking hot Sammy.” Dean moaned, “So perfect lil’ brother, so tight and -oh god, fuck.” Dean snapped their hips together, dragging Sam down hard on his lap as his release spilled warm into Sam’s ass. 

Sam grabbed Dean’s face and pulled him into a wet kiss as they continued to rock against each other, Sam’s hole still trembling around Dean’s pulsing cock. 

“Did good Sammy.” Dean praised running his hands up and down Sam’s back. 

Sam collapsed against Dean’s chest, mouthing against his brother’s neck as he came down, still rolling his hips across Dean’s lap so his dick rubbed against Dean’s stomach for the sparks of pleasure that zipped up his spine. 

Dean’s hands palmed Sam’s ass and halted his movements, his fingers brushing against Sam’s stretched rim with intent, “You trying to go round two Sammy?” 

“Practice makes perfect,” Sam answered starting to suck a hickey into Dean’s collarbone.


	32. Wincest Love Week (Summer 2017) - Day 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Drunk!Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Either Tumblr ate this one, or it wasn't in my Anon's wheelhouse.  
> Which, more power to them for sticking to their blog aesthetic.  
> (That or my understanding of Texas Hold 'Em has drastically declined since I moved away from my home town. ¬_¬ )

Ghouls weren’t the boys’ favorite, but once they flipped from 'dead meat' to 'fresh meat', they were relatively easy to hunt and kill. 

The brothers just had to haul ass out of town before the locals discovered the now twice dead body.

Needing showers after running around a graveyard all night, the nearest place to bed down was a Bed and Breakfast. Sam had called ahead to request a reservation, not wanting to have grave dirt in his hair longer than strictly necessary. Dean had only bitched about the cost of the “highway robbery” for 10 minutes, so Sam counted it as a win. 

The sun was just setting as they parked in the visitor space and grabbed their bags. 

It was a lovely, spacious house on the outskirts of some no-name town. The pictures on the walls were of smiling grandchildren, the floors were clean and polished, and the sheets smelled like someone had hand washed and hung them to dry. But it was the twin plates of lasagna- set aside for their late arrival- that won Dean over.

For the first time in a long-time, Sam felt comfortable enough to relax completely. He’d taken a long shower, had a home cooked meal, but he was still too wired to fall asleep.

Their room didn’t have a TV, so Dean pulled out a deck of cards and a bottle of whiskey. 

“Texas hold ‘em.” Dean announced, “Max bet three shots.”

After a quarter of the bottle had disappeared, and Dean had only helped a little, Sam started to remember why he didn’t play poker with Dean.

He was a cheater.

“It’s skill.” Dean defended.

“Skill my ass.” Sam growled taking two shots in quick succession.

The more alcohol that went into Sam’s system, the worse his poker face became. 

Dean watched him from over his own hand, “I’m just going to guess.” 

Sam heaved a dramatic sigh, “Where is the fun in that?” 

“Your high is a King, giving you at least one pair. You might have another pair, I doubt it, but if you did it’s going to be a low card at best,” Dean laid down another King for the river card, “Now you have three of a kind.”

Sam unbuttoned his shirt and set it alongside the cards between them on the table, “Call.”

Dean eyed the shirt, “We playing strip poker now?”

“Maybe,” Sam answered with a poorly concealed smile as he picked up his two cards again and shuffled them between his fingers. “Your move.”

“I’m going to also call,” Dean said, pouring half a finger of whiskey into the cup, “Because I have two pairs and they beat your three of a kind.” 

“Do not.” Sam argued. 

Dean leveled him with a dry look and flashed him the cards in his hand. He had two pairs, beating out Sam’s three of a kind. Collecting Sam’s shirt from the table, Dean nudged the glass across the table.

“How are you cheating, I’m watching your every move,” Sam demanded, grabbing the glass and dragging it closer. 

Dean rolled his eyes, “It’s not cheating when you know how to play the game. You don’t _have_ to call with every hand.” 

Frowning at the glass in his hand, Sam considered it. 

He was silent so long Dean leaned across the table and plucked the cards from Sam’s fingers, “You want to play Blackjack instead? We have one deck so you can count cards if you want to.” 

Sam nodded before throwing back the shot, “Numbers are better than this game of luck.”

“It’s skill” Dean repeated. “We just have to play more often for you to pick it up.” 

Sam poured himself another finger of whiskey and threw that back before Dean reshuffled the cards. 

“You’re hitting that bottle kind of hard Sammy,” Dean commented taking it from his hand and taking a pull straight from the bottle before handing it back. Before Sam could answer, Dean continued, “It’s not a bad thing. You need to cut loose more often.” 

“I never feel safe enough to get really drunk,” Sam admitted easily. He frowned at himself for a moment at how deeply honest and true that statement was. 

“What do you mean?” Dean asked cracking the cards as he continued to shuffle. 

“You know," Sam shrugged, "like I’m always worried that whatever we’re hunting is gonna turn and come after us. That it’s gonna find us in the motel room or the bar or something. I don’t wanna be too drunk to fight back.” 

Dean gestured to the room around them, “And you feel safe here?” 

Sam looked around the cozy room with the single king sized bed and remembered the kind smile the senior man had when he checked them in. Sam pointed to the picture hanging on the wall opposite the bed, “That picture is of a _dog_ ,” he stressed before grinning, “with a stick in its mouth!” Dean looked at the picture with a confused frown, before directing the look at Sam. “He’s playing fetch!” Sam laughed.

“Wow." Dean deadpanned, "You are drunk.”

Sam smiled at him again, open and happy. “I like you.” He announced.

Dean hid his own smile, “Like you too Sammy.”

Folding his legs in front of him, Sam poured himself another drink of whiskey, “Blackjack is the one where you put cards on the corner Kings before the other person, right?” 

With a huff, Dean said, “Why do you know how to play a prison game staple, but you don’t know what Blackjack is?” 

Sam opened his mouth to reply but gave a confused shrugged instead. 

\- - -

With 3/4ths the bottle of whiskey gone, Sam had managed to turn Blackjack into a stripping game -despite Dean’s halfhearted protest- and was currently tucked into bed wearing one sock and nothing else. Dean was drunk too but to a lesser degree. 

Dean fixed the blanket around them for the third time, and Sam was annoyed enough to want him to stop, he finally dropped an arm over Dean's waist and pulled him into a tight embrace. 

“Come on man, you’re going to get cold.” Dean reasoned.

“Keep me warm then.” Sam answered tangling his legs with Dean’s.

“You're not the one going to have to put up with your sick ass.” Dean grumbled.

Sam snuggled against brother's side, pressing his semi-hard dick against Dean's thigh with intent. “I'm not tired.” Sam mock-whispered against Dean's shoulder.

“Yeah?” Dean asked, turning to wrap his arms around Sam and pull him into his chest, “How do you want to fix that?”

Pressing a quick kiss to Dean's lips, Sam ran his hand up and down Dean's side, “Dealer's Choice.”

Dean snorted a laugh into the kiss, “Been sitting on that one long?”

“Only since you pulled out the deck of cards.” Sam answered between kisses to Dean’s shoulder. 

“Roll over Sammy.” Dean said nudging Sam’s hip. 

Obliging, Sam buried his face in the pillow and turned his back to Dean, wiggling his ass against Dean’s crotch. 

Dean wrapped his arm around Sam and pulled him close, nuzzling behind his ear. “Touch yourself for me, Sammy.” 

With a whimper, Sam dropped a hand to his dick, rocking back into Dean. Dean’s own cock a hard line against the small of Sam’s back.

Mouthing at Sam’s neck, Dean slowly pet down Sam's side a few times before following the curve of Sam’s hip to take the place of Sam’s hand over his dick. 

Dean whispered praise into the curve of Sam’s neck, his calloused hand relentless as he gathered the precome dripping from the tip to ease the friction. 

“Going to come for me, Sammy?” Dean whispered, flicking his tongue along the shell of Sam’s ear.

“God, Dean,” Sam moaned, “your hand.” 

Paying attention to the underside of Sam’s cockhead, Dean played him like a well-practiced instrument. Sam moaned and squirmed in his arms, unsure if he wanted to get away from the relentless tease of Dean’s fingers or push into it. 

Dean took away his choice when the arm under his head moved to play with his nipples, pinching and tugging at each one. 

With a cry, Sam shuttered in Dean’s arms and spilled his release across Dean’s fingers. 

It only took a few strokes of his Sam-come-slicked hand over his own cock before Dean painted the small of Sam’s back with his orgasm. 

Sam let out a pleased sigh when Dean pressed a kiss into Sam’s neck before feeling around on the floor for one of their shirts to clean the mess up with. 

Once Dean had them cleaned, and had chucked the now soiled shirt across the room, he took Sam back into his arms. Tucking Sam against his bent knees and slipping his arm back under Sam’s head as a pillow. 

“Does this mean the house wins?” Dean joked as he nosed along the back of Sam’s neck.

Sam glanced over his shoulder at Dean with a happy smirk and counted, “Deal again, and we’ll find out.”


End file.
